The Diary of Jane
by Argyle.S
Summary: Three weeks after the incident with Dennis, Maura has to fly to D.C. for the weekend to consult on a case, but she leaves something behind for Jane. Her journal, which contains a series of letters she's written to Jane over the months since the two settled their argument over Doyle's shooting. Letters she's been too afraid to show Jane.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is not in the same universe as my previous story, 'I Want To Be In Love.' It started out as an attempt to write PWP, but ended up being a very different take from 'I Want To Be In Love' on the 'How they got together' storyline. It's about Maura taking the initiative in the wake of the Zombie Boner Dude fiasco. That, and smut. Specifically, smut written by Maura. More specifically, smut about Jane, written by Maura.

(Also, is there a Rizzoli & Isles fic prompt or challenge community? If there is, can someone PM with the location. I've got a rabid plot bunny bouncing around my brain I'd like to put up for adoption).

This is set roughly three weeks after Melt My Heart To Stone (3x10), and contains spoilers through that episode.

Finally, Season 3 has gone to some fairly dark places, and this story follows Maura's reactions to the events in the series. Those reactions may not be comfortable for some people, and it may trigger for some people.

Update: I'd like to thank bekahbabe for providing a belated, but much needed beta for this story.

* * *

**Jane**

I sighed in relief as I opened the front door of Maura's Beacon Hill townhouse. It had been a shitty day, and I was glad to be home. I honestly wasn't sure which was the worst part; the miserable August heat, the foot chase down by the harbor where the humidity was smothering, or that it had happened so close to quitting time that after badgering the confession out of him, booking him and doing the paperwork, I'd gotten out of the office three hours late. I know having to put up with Pike's lame ass attempts to flirt with me in the café and Crowe's constant cracks about needing a Midol hadn't helped.

All I wanted was curl up under a blanket on the couch with Maura and a beer and talk about... stuff. I didn't give a fuck what stuff, as long as it was completely meaningless, unimportant stuff. And there were graham crackers. And frosting.

Except, Maura was in D.C.. She'd flown out of Logan around one o'clock that afternoon, and would be gone for the next two days, which pretty much meant my weekend was reduced to changing diapers, baby talk, and meals with Ma.

It was fucking pathetic. It really was. My free weekends used to be filled with nose bleed seats at the Sox game, or entire days spent watching shit blow up at the movie theater, trips to the batting cages, or, even though I'd never admit it to anyone, hours spent wandering through one of the art museums in the city. Back in the day, Saturday nights would always end up at this little Southie Jazz club, where the band knew me well enough to let me sit in on the piano.

Somewhere along the way that had changed. The Jazz club had disappeared from my life in the basement of a farm house in western Massachusetts, but the hell if I knew when the rest had slipped away. Somewhere along the line, it was no longer 'things I did on my weekend off', it was 'things Maura and I did on our weekend off'. No more nose bleeds at the Sox games. Instead, we sat behind home plate when we went, which wasn't as often, because some of those weekends had to be set aside for trips to Newberry Street boutiques to keep Maura from going into shopping withdrawal. I also didn't go to the movies at eleven in the morning and buy tickets for four different movies anymore. I spent the morning jogging through the Commons with Maura, before we ate next to the frog pond, then spent the day curled up on her couch watching whatever was available from On Demand. Trips to the batting cages were mixed with training for the Massachusetts Marathon. Trips to the art museums had grown more frequent, and been joined by nights at the symphony, or the theater, or the Opera.

Bitch of it was, despite all the griping and the complaining, I'd been happy. Sure, I stopped having time to date, but so what? My dates always ended up with me sitting on my or Maura's couch, eating junk food and talking about work, or family or plans for the weekend, or nothing at all. Why not cut out the awkward dinner and all the time it took to figure out why the guy I was with wasn't going to work, and spend what little free time I had with someone whose company I actually enjoyed?

Then, three weeks ago Lydia had left a baby on the front porch.

It took me days to realize how thoroughly we'd all been played by that bitch. We'd all taken her for an idiot, but damn, she was good. She'd waited just long enough for Angela to get attached to the baby before she told her the truth. She'd made sure Tommy and Frankie and Angela were there when the kid was born. But her real master stroke had been the way she left little Tony on Maura's doorstep.

Even if he hadn't been a Rizzoli, there was no way a child left on Maura Isles' doorstep would ever end up a ward of the state. Lydia had hit below the belt with that one, and it still pissed me off. Probably the only thing that had stopped Lydia from meeting a painful, but not life threatening, accident was that Korsak knew a friendly judge in family court who'd been able to grease the wheels on the custody paperwork.

Somehow, I'd ended up the little runt's legal guardian. By the end of the first week, even I'd stopped pretending I wasn't going to adopt the little snot monster once I got all the paperwork squared away. I'd have to find a new apartment, because there was no way mine would would pass the home inspection.

God, it was like Jo Friday all over again. The kid's parents were out of the picture for five minutes, and suddenly I was a mother.

On the plus side, he didn't need flea baths.

I shut the door and turned around. I'd been planning to head out to the guest house to pick Tony up from Ma, but there was Jo. She looked up at me and barked an unenthusiastic greeting.

Pathetic. Even my dog was bummed that Maura was out of town.

"Come on," I said, grabbing Jo's leash. The dog stood up and walked over, staring at the door and whimpering in disappointment that Maura was nowhere in sight. "I know, girl. I'm right there with you." I bent down, rubbing Jo's sides. "Stupid FBI. They should get their own Medical Examiner. Yes they should. Yes they should." Jo tilted her head back and licked my nose as I attached her leash. Then I grabbed a couple of plastic bags, and we headed out into the night.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, we walked back into the house. Jo had her head and tail held up high, like a conquering hero. I just glared at her.

"That poor squirrel wasn't doing anything to you."

Jo wagged her tail proudly.

"Seriously, how am I supposed to be a cop when my own dog is out there committing assault and battery on the local wild life?"

Jo barked as I bent down to unhook her leash.

"Don't give me that. I saw the whole thing." I stood up and put Jo's leash back on the hook. "I ought to turn you in."

Jo walked over to her doggie bed and curled up into a little ball with a huff.

"Yeah, well, Maura would be very disappointed, so you better watch it. She might not let you come over anymore if she decides you're a bad influence on Bass."

Jo let out a small whimper.

I smiled. Victory. "That's more like it."

I flipped the lock on the front door and headed out the back to the guest house, knocking softly, just in case. It didn't take very long for the door to open a crack, and Ma to peek out, pressing her fingers to her lips, shushing me.

"He's asleep."

I sighed. "Of course he is." If I woke him up, it would be hours before I got him back to bed.

"I can take him for the night, if you want," Angela whispered.

I smiled, wanting to hug my mother. "Thanks, ma."

"No problem, honey. I'll bring him over in the morning, say ten o'clock?"

I nodded. "That'd be great. Goodnight, Ma."

"Oh, hold on a minute." She turned away from the door for a minute to pick something up, then turned back and held out a Manila envelope. "Maura asked me to make sure you got this. She said to tell you to make sure you open it tonight. It sounded important."

I looked down at the envelope. It was unmarked except for my name printed on the front in Maura's neat, flowing hand writing.

"Well?" Angela prompted.

I looked up, not surprised to find an expectant look on my mother's face. "Well, what?"

"Open it," she whispered in an excited tone.

I raised an eyebrow. "Really?" I shook my head. "I'll see you in the morning, Ma."

"But-"

"Goodnight." I headed back into the main house and dropped down on the couch, wondering for a moment if I'd ever actually see my crummy little apartment again. Oh, we'd gone through all the arguments a dozen times. Maura's house was bigger, the guest bedroom could be converted into a nursery, Maura and Angela both got home before me most days, so it cut down on the babysitter's hours. Beacon Hill was a safer neighborhood than South Boston. It was August, and Maura had central air, while I didn't even have a window unit. And those were just the highlights.

God, it wasn't like I even missed the place. Some days, I kind of hated it. It wasn't exactly full of the best memories. It just felt like I should miss it, and it bothered me a little that I didn't.

I looked down at the manila envelope, trying to figure out why Maura hadn't given it to me before I left for work. Of course, there was only one way to find out.

I turned it over, bent back the wings of the clasp and flipped open the flap. There were only two things inside. The first was a black leather journal I'd occasionally seen Maura writing in over the last few months, and the second was another envelope. An unsealed parchment number 10 envelope with the flap tucked in.

I dumped it out on the coffee table, and started to reach for the journal, but then I noticed the writing on the parchment envelope.

_To Jane, with all my love, Maura_

_(Read this first)_

I picked it up and opened it. There was a single sheet of folded parchment inside. A hand written letter from Maura.

_My Beloved Jane,_

_If you're reading this, then I must be braver than I feel as I write these words. It's currently Wednesday night. A few hours ago, I received a call from the FBI, asking me to fly down to Washington D.C. to consult on a case. By the time you read this, you will, of course, already know my schedule, but in light of recent events, I've come to the decision to leave you this letter, and the journal I began keeping several months ago._

_I suppose that must seem strange, and after you read this and the journal, you might also decide it was a bit cowardly. I admit, I did formulate the plan largely due to a deficiency of bravery. I have something I want to say to you, something I've wanted to say for months, but for reasons I hope will become clear, I had decided withhold. A decision I now deeply regret because of the pain it might have saved both of us._

_For the past three weeks, I have tried to work up my courage, yet no matter how often I decided to talk to you about this, I never actually manage to speak the words. Every time I look into your eyes my courage fails me._

_I think this is the only option left to me, because I can only seem to be brave when you're not there to remind me of exactly how much I stand to lose if I speak. I can only be brave when my need for your presence in my life doesn't rise up to muffle my voice._

_The journal you'll find enclosed is the one you've seen me writing in in the months since we fought. I began it, as you'll see, a few days after the incident at the reservoir. I do not know what you have planned for the weekend, but I am asking you, as my best, closest and dearest friend, to take the time to read the journal, to hear what I have to say in the only way I can bring myself to say it, and to please, not judge me too harshly for my fear, or for the words you find within those pages._

_When I return, you have my word, I will abide by whatever decision you make, but please know that no matter what happens, you will always hold the most special and central place in my heart._

_With all my love,_

_Maura_

_P. S. Dinner is in the refrigerator. Heat the large dish for twenty minutes on three-fifty. The sauces in the small dish are best served cold. The dish is Greek, and would go best paired it with the Retsina I've left chilling in the refrigerator. If you prefer, there is, of course, Miller 64 in the refrigerator as well._

I looked over at the journal, feeling a little like it was a snake, getting ready to bite me. I had eight years as a detective and thirteen years on the force, and didn't need a single bit of that experience to know that whatever was in that journal was big.

Life changing.

For one selfish moment, I resented Maura for it.

Jesus, how fair is that? She just drops something huge in my lap on her way out of town and says 'Here, deal with this while I'm gone.' Like I don't have enough shit to deal with already. What the fuck?

I threw the letter down on the coffee table and dug the thumb of my right hand into the scar in the palm of my left, trying to sooth the sudden ache I felt there. I stared at the letter as I tried to work out the pain, but I didn't want to read it again. I wanted to pretend it didn't exist, but I couldn't help myself.

I focused on the post script. It wasn't much, but it gave me a way out. Dinner. I'd do dinner first. That would make things easier. Give me time to get up the nerve to face whatever bomb Maura was dropping on me.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This Chapter Contains Explicit Content.

* * *

**Jane**

I climbed into Maura's bed, holding the journal in my hands. Not too long ago, I would never have walked into Maura's bedroom without her there. That was something else Tony had changed. He'd taken the guest room, and Ma had the guest house, so I'd been sharing Maura's bed ever since the night Lydia dumped him. Never mind the fact that Tony spent have his nights tucked in between us.

Of course, I could have sat on the couch while I read, but it just didn't seem right. The journal was Maura's, and it was obviously something personal. I wanted to be close to her while I read it, which was impossible, but her bedroom made me feel close to her, and that was going to have to be enough.

I held the journal up, studying it the way I'd study any piece of evidence. It was black, leather bound, and surprisingly heavy. Obviously well made, with an elastic strap attached to the back cover that wrapped around to hold it closed, and an attached black satin bookmark. The word 'Moleskin' was embossed on the back. I recognized the brand. It was the same as the field notebooks Maura had given me, Frost and Korsak after she'd seen the ones the department issued fall apart in the middle of a crime scene once too often.

I lifted it up to my face and inhaled. The smell was faint, but I would recognize the rich, warm floral scent anywhere. Chanel Number 5. Maura's favorite perfume. There were hints of other scents as well. The hand sanitizer and the moisturizer Maura used so obsessively, and the slightest hint of the mulberry leaves and cactus pads she fed Bass every night.

I slipped the elastic band off and opened the front cover. The first page contained only a small block of text, a mix of preprinted lettering and Maura's hand writing

In case of loss, please return to:

_Dr. Maura D. Isles_

_23 Chestnut Street_

_Boston, MA 02108_

_(857)314-1593_

As a reward: _5000.00_

The fuck? What could possibly be so important about a diary that Maura would pay that much to get it back. And Christ, if it was that valuable, what the hell was she doing leaving it with me?

Sometimes, I was amazed how much Maura trusted me. I supposed I shouldn't be surprised by it anymore, but it just hit me sometimes.

This was important to Maura, which meant I really needed to take it seriously, but that also made it scary. We worked so hard on being friends again after I shot Paddy Doyle, and we'd been through so much shit the last few months. Casey, Hope and Cailin, the fight with Ma because we didn't tell her who Lydia was. Fucking Bianchi and Dennis.

But it felt like the crazy had decided to give us a break after Tony had been dropped in our laps. We were safe. Happy. I didn't want anything to change

Except, it already had. I didn't know what it was, but something had changed the moment Maura had handed Ma that envelope.

I turned the page of the journal, and couldn't stop myself from smiling when I saw line after line of Maura's perfect handwriting. I ran my fingers over the page, picturing Maura sitting at her desk, brow wrinkled in concentration as she held that ridiculously overpriced porcelain and rhodium Montblanc fountain pen.

I took one last breath, then started to read.

_My Beloved Jane,_

_As I begin this letter, I find myself wondering if I'll ever be brave enough to let you read it. I purchased this journal, telling myself I would do this for me, and just for me. That writing these letters would be a way for me to organize my thoughts, and find peace with my emotions. That this was about me, and not you. Laying here in bed, looking at the bandage wrapped around my leg, I realize how silly such an idea was._

_I remember things so vividly. Growing up alone, isolated. The way I clung to lovers so desperately, seeking the affection my parents never gave me. Garrett and Ian were simply the high points you're familiar with. I grew accustomed too it. I was alone for so long that I didn't know how not to be. Then you came into my life, and became so central to it, that sometimes I felt like I was drowning in you._

_Somewhere along the line, I became less interested in my dates, than in talking to you about my dates. My job became less about the joy I took in doing my work and doing it well, than about the joy I took in providing you with the tools and answers you needed to do your job. My happiness waxed and waned with your proximity to my life, but somehow, for the first time, I wasn't alone, and I reveled in it._

_And then, you were gone. We hurt each other, which had happened before, but this time, we kept on hurting each other. We fought and grappled and pulled on the barbs we'd sunk into each other's flesh, and I was alone again, and despite a lifetime of experience, I didn't know how to be alone anymore. I didn't know how to be without you._

_I was afraid to apologize to you, because I was afraid our friendship was over, that like every relationship I'd ever had before, I'd somehow killed it. I was afraid to apologize to you, or to accept your apology, because I was afraid hating each other was all we had left, and I thought even that would be better than a life of indifferent proximity._

_It was then, in the worst moments of our fight, when we were furthest from each other and okay, that I realized how desperately I wanted and needed you. How much I longed for you, and loved you, and desired you._

_Now, we're friends again. Three days ago, you saved my life. Had we gone to Western Massachusetts in separate cars, I've no doubt I'd be dead now. Run off the road and shot down like some animal. Three days ago, you saved my leg. Scared and terrified, you, my brave Jane, cut into me, and in doing so, you healed me. Three days ago, you stayed with me. You could have left me there, alone as I had always been, but you didn't. You chose to stay, to risk death with me, and as feverish and delirious as I was, I knew there was more left between us than hate. I could forgive you, because you still loved me._

_I know now that you will never leave me. I was and I am safe with you. It's myself I no longer trust. I sat on that couch two days ago, fresh out of the hospital and looked into your eyes, only to realize that all my barriers and defenses had been stripped away. The light of your brilliant smile had burned away the shadows, revealing things I'd been carefully and safely ignoring._

_In that moment, I realized that my desire for you had gone past simple longing for friendship and companionship. I wanted to reach out and touch your face, to slowly caress each plane and curve. My heart soared at the idea of leaning forward and claiming your lips with my own. I imagined how they would feel against mine, so infinitely soft, except for the thin lines of chapped skin on the upper and lower lips where they meet when your mouth is closed. I know those lines form because you don't moisturize your lips. I know they are a common occurrence. Yet the contrast of soft and rough seems so right, so very Jane. Soft, delicate, precious femininity, capped with roughness._

_Even imagining kissing you arouses me, but that isn't the word I use in my mind when I think about it. With all the lovers I've had over the years, my mind has supplied clinical terms like all the other simple, factual data points I observe through the day. Words like 'arousal' and 'genital engorgement', but with you, those words, clinical and correct, are inaccurate and inadequate to express my physical and emotional responses. For the first time in my life, I understand how colloquial language can be so much more precise than the proper, accepted lexicon._

_Because the truth is, imagining kissing you doesn't arouse me. Imagining kissing you makes me so hot and wet that I'm stunned you can't smell it on me every time you're in the room with me. I don't know how you can look at me and not see the naked want, or stand next to me and not feel the fire you ignite my my veins._

_I sat on that couch, looking into your eyes, wanting your family to go away so I could climb on top of you. I didn't want to make love to you. Not then. Making love is slow and sweet and tender, and I wanted none of those things. I wanted to mount you, tear your clothes off, and fuck you as if my life depended on it. To rip that filthy tank top in half, shove your bra up, out of the way and close my mouth around one of your nipples and sink my teeth into the soft pink flesh until I heard you moan. To shove my hand down the front of those black pants and inside your panties, until I could curl my fingers up inside your soft, wet folds and bury them inside you. I wanted to feel myself pumping into you, my fingers opening you, claiming you, fucking you until you threw your head back, screaming as you come all over my hand._

_And when it was over, I wanted you to roll us over, to pin me to the couch, and to take me with the same abandon. I wanted to hear the sound of broken buttons bouncing off hardwood floors as you ripped my blouse open, too impatient to fumble with them. The crack of breaking plastic as you jerk my bra open, splitting the clasp in two so you care bare my breasts. I wanted to feel your hands kneading them as you kissed me, hard and demanding, as you forced a thigh between my legs, burying it against my sex as you began to pump your hips, riding me. I'd grab the edge of the cushions under me, desperate for anything to hold on to, and I'd cry out with need when your left hand slid down my body, finding its way inside my pants. I'd turn my head, biting down on a throw pillow as three of your fingers entered me. Too much, stretching me, nearly tearing me, but the pain making it that much better as you fucked me with bruising force, marking me, reminding me that I was yours, only yours, forever._

_I've had two days to live with the images that flooded through me in that moment, and the need hasn't dimmed in the least. I've always appreciated the human form, but I finally understand what people are talking about when they refer to pure, unadulterated lust. Every time I've seen you in the last two days, I've felt the same raw, primal need to simply take you that I did in that moment. Last night, I could not sleep until I had indulged the fantasy, letting it play out in my head while my fingers played your role between my legs. It brought me a moment's peace, enough to slip into a fitful sleep, though I'm not sure what price I paid, because now I have the memories of physical sensation to match the fantasy._

_Oh, Jane. My dear, beloved Jane. I know I should try to get past this. To put these feelings back in whatever mental box I'd hidden them in before. In a way, that's what this letter and this journal were supposed to be about, but instead, I sit here, cursing my inability to lie, even to myself, it seems. Because I don't want to get past this. Because I feel more alive, more gloriously, wonderfully alive laying here dreaming of you and touching myself than I ever have under the hands of even the most skilled and devoted lover._

_I wish so desperately, that you felt the same way._

_With all my love,_

_Maura_

I marked the page and sat the journal on the bedside table, then looked up at the ceiling and just lay there for a while, hands resting just below my breasts, fingers laced together, staring at the ceiling. My mind was blank, the way it got sometimes when I was working a case. I'd just stare at the wall, not thinking about anything, and just like always, I could feel my brain working in the background, putting pieces together.

I knew it was coming, the moment when whatever it was my brain was working on would hit me. An epiphany, even though I'd never admit to Maura I knew what that word meant. At least, not until I could do it in a way that would make her jaw drop. I wanted to avoid it, to go back to the way things were before Ma handed me that damned envelope, but I couldn't.

I could feel it when the questions began to float to the surface.

When did this happen?

Stupid question. I had a good time line based on the signed confession I'd just read.

How did it happen?

I huffed, because really, that was another stupid question. We did everything together. Work, food, movies, shopping, theater, opera, the museum, ball games. We were together all the time. We shared everything. Well, not everything. We didn't share guys, because there was no way I was sharing Maura with some loser.

Sharing Maura? What the hell?

I shook my head, trying to clear it, but it didn't help.

Why did this happen?

I picked up a pillow and held it over my face to muffle the scream of frustration. Why did I only seem to have stupid questions tonight? How and why were practically the same answer. I'd been thinking about it myself, earlier in the night. There wasn't really a Jane or a Maura anymore. We were a unit. Jane and Maura. We spent more time together than most married couples, and got along better too.

I pulled the pillow off my face and took a deep breath, closing my eyes. I knew what I was doing. I was trying to work it like a case. I had a confession, and now I just needed to go through corroboration, because people confessed to things they didn't do, or they recanted before it went to trial.

This wasn't a case. This was Maura telling me she loved me, and I was asking all these questions to avoid asking the only important one, because it was dangerous. Because, once I answered it, things really would be different, one way, or the other.

Maura loved me. Maura was in love with me. The question was, how did I feel?

I thought back to the disaster with Giovanni, and the panic I'd felt when I asked Maura if she wanted to sleep with me. At the time, I'd been terrified she'd say yes, but now that Maura had told me flat out that she did want to sleep with me, I was calm. Off balance, but calm.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

I needed to be careful. This was Maura, and I didn't want to hurt her. I'd done that too many times in the past, and I'd almost lost her because if it. I couldn't let that happen again. Life without Maura was miserable. The next best thing to hell.

I could not do what I usually did, just plow through without thinking.

I couldn't fuck this up. If it hadn't been for Maura, I would have either eaten my gun or died on the job years ago. God knows, after Hoyt, I'd come close enough to taking a .40 caliber pain killer. Except, when I came back from medical leave, Tierney had retired, and since I was on desk duty, I got assigned to bring the new Chief Medical Examiner up to speed. Somehow, conversations over dead bodies and cans of tuna salad in the morgue did what months on the shrink's couch hadn't. I'd started to recover. Eventually, we'd even got to where we could laugh about Maura mistaking me for a hooker while I was in DCU, and she was an assistant ME.

It went beyond that though. Without Maura, me and Frankie would have died in the siege, and Marino would have walked away, celebrated as a hero. Without Maura, Tommy would be doing life for felony murder and Ma would be living with some relative she hated.

I love Maura. No doubt about it. Not just because Maura had made my life so much better than it would have been otherwise. Maura made me feel safe, made me a better person.

But I knew I couldn't give her what she was asking for out of gratitude. It would turn into poison for both of us, destroy our friendship, and our friendship was the most meaningful thing in my life.

Which meant there was only one question left. Was I in love with Maura?

I looked over at the journal, replaying the letter I'd read in my head. I closed my eyes, imagining what it would be like to feel Maura on top of me, kissing me, tearing off my clothes and fucking me.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

I opened my eyes, staring up at the ceiling, barely able to breath. My legs were curled up and I'd started squeezing my thighs together, trying to find some relief. My nipples were so hard they hurt, making visible points through my bra and tank top, and somehow, my left hand had ended up half way down my panties, the fingers tangled in my short hairs while my whole body shook.

I'd had orgasms without getting that turned on.

I swallowed, waiting for the panic, the voice to come screaming that I wasn't gay, that I didn't like women, that I was straight and Catholic and I liked men. I waited so long the ache between my legs faded and I could relax, straighten out my legs, and take my hand out of my panties. I waited until the clock ticked over to midnight.

Nothing. No panic attack. God didn't strike me down. Sister Winifred didn't burst into the room and attack me with a ruler. Ma didn't storm in and disown me.

But that journal called to me. It was like a case file, calling to me, telling me it had one more clue I was missing, if only I could see it.

I needed to see it. I needed to know what else Maura had to say.

I reached for the journal, because Maura asked me to read it, and because I wanted to read it. This was Maura. I loved her, and if she was going to hand me her heart, I sure as hell was going to do everything I could to handle it with care. I would read the entire journal, hear everything she had to say, then I'd make my decision. Not before.

I opened the journal, finding the spot I'd marked, and started reading.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Again with the explicit content.

* * *

**Jane**

_My Beloved Jane,_

_I told you a few days ago that the best antidote for heartbreak is distraction. The words came to me easily because I'd been seeking a distraction of my own, however fleeting or inadequate. I found one in Dennis. I was pretty, charming, a little provocative and most importantly of all, safe. I had no attachment or investment. There was attraction, but it was like a light wind, lost in the gale of my desire for you._

_Still, I let him pursue me. Because I liked being pursued, and because I'm used to it. Because I know how to run, just fast enough to keep them interested, without being so fast they give up hope._

_It was a fun game, one I'm used to playing, but I felt nothing special when he vanished. There was no heartbreak, no nights spent crying over him. Instead, my nights have been spent feeding you graham crackers, canned frosting, and horrible, peppery wines that come in plastic bladders inside cardboard boxes instead of bottles. Taking care of you. Something which, for others, might be an obligation, but for me is a source of unending joy._

_However, for all of his faults, Dennis did remind me of something. I used to be someone who was brave. I used to be someone who took chances. I used to be the kind of person who would ride through my full turn at an Equestrian Dressage event naked simply to protest proposed budget cuts._

_As I sit here, writing this letter, I imagine what it would have been like had I met you in the full boldness of youth. Would I have been as brave then as I imagine being now? Would I have pursued you with all the vigor with which I want, even now, to claim you, body and soul? Or would a younger, wilder you pursue me, throw caution to the wind and take me, as I willingly, enthusiastically allowed myself to be taken?_

_That is the idea that haunts me tonight. The idea that drove me to pull this journal out and pen this letter. The idea of you taking me. I can see it so clearly. Feel it in warm and wet places. The two of us, on a saddle, riding in the country._

_Your hands would start around my waist, and I would lead the horse at a slow gait into the forest, smiling happily at the feel of your hard, muscled body pressed firmly against my back. Both of us would grow more and more aroused with each step the horse took, as the rocking motion of the horse grinds your pelvis against my ass._

_Once we were alone in the woods, you'd decide you just couldn't wait anymore, and start unbuttoning my riding jacket, then my shirt. You'd pull it open, and I'd shudder with anticipation as you ran your hands over my stomach, and moan as you pushed up my sports bra. For a while, we'd both be content with that, with you exposing me, caressing and kneading my breasts in the warm sun as your lips and tongue left burning trails along my neck and collar bones, but soon, that wouldn't be enough, and your hands would slide down to work open my jodhpurs. I'd whimper as you worked one hand inside, then moan your name as you filled me with your fingers. At first, you'd let the slow rocking of the horse set the pace, but neither of us would have the patience for it, and I'd beg you to take me, and you would, one hand massaging my breasts while the other pumped in and out of me, making me sigh, whimper, pant, moan and finally scream as I came in your arms._

_When I could breath again, I'd take your wrist, and drag you out of me as I pulled the horse to a stop. I'd slide from the saddle, then drag you after me. Once you had your feet on the ground, I would push you back against the nearest tree as I worked open the button and the zipper of your jeans, and as I pressed you against the trunk, I'd fall to my knees, dragging denim down with me, only to reach up again, and pull lace down as well. I wouldn't wait for permission, or an invitation. I'd force your legs apart and bury my face between your thighs, running my tongue over wet folds of pink flesh. I'd find your entrance and slip my tongue inside, lapping up your nectar the way a thirsty animal laps up life giving water, before I slowly worked my way forward. I'd replace my tongue inside you with fingers, and as I began stroking into you, fast and rough, I'd find your clit, licking and sucking and scraping with my teeth. I'd moan as your fingers found their way into my hair, twisting so tightly pain burned through my scalp like fire, and I'd be so turned on by the sounds you're making I'd have to reach down and stroke my own clit with my free hand, until need and passion broke over us both, and we came together._

_That's what I want, my love. To take you with all the passion and intensity of my heart. To take risks for you. To be brave for you. To be bold for you, and to love you the way you deserve to be loved, because you are the most wonderful, magnificent, precious thing in my life._

_I want to spend forever reminding you of that._

_With all my love,_

_Maura_

I marked my page and closed the journal, tossing it onto the nightstand with a growl.

Maura was trying to kill me. She had to be. There was no other explanation.

I rolled onto my side, hugging a pillow to my chest as I curled up into a ball and whimpered, and for the second time that night, I tried to find some relief by squeezing my thighs together.

I was so turned on it hurt. I'd had lovers go down on me before. I usually enjoyed it. Sometimes, if they were good, I loved it. But no one even compared to just the idea of what Maura had described. Looking down, and seeing those hazel eyes looking back up at me...

I tilted my head forward, burying it in the pillow to muffle another scream.

When I was done screaming, I looked up, glaring at the journal.

I loved Maura. I'd known that for ages. And now, I was pretty sure I had an answer to the question of whether or not I found Maura attractive. The idea of fucking Maura, or of being fucked by Maura, was doing things to my body that bordered on torture.

But I still couldn't answer the question that mattered. Was I in love with Maura?

I should have had an answer for that. How could you be in love with someone and not know it?

I thought I was in love with Casey, but I couldn't help but think how that had turned out. If I was in love with him, why the hell had I slept with Dean, and why the hell hadn't either of us called the other after our little chat in the Dirty Robber? I'd thought, maybe, I could fall in love with Dean, but that had turned into a complete disaster. I thought about all the men in my life, at least, all the ones I'd gotten past the second date with. Thought of how it felt with them.

None of them felt like what I felt with Maura. I hadn't ever felt like I needed any of them. Not like I needed Maura. And I did need her. I needed to see her every day. When we fought, it felt like my world was falling to pieces. Everything hurt. But when we made up, it was like surfacing after being under the water too long. I felt like I could breath again.

Maybe that was what love felt like? Maybe all the others had just been attraction and affection.

I reached for the journal, hoping it had the answers I was looking for.


	4. Chapter 4

**Jane**

_My Beloved Jane,_

_I want so much to say that there was a time I knew how to live my life without you, but I know that it would be the worst sort of lie. A lie told to myself. Before you came into my life, the world was hollow, without real color or true beauty. I wandered through days, months and years without true connection to that vital spark which seems to give shape and form solidity and reality._

_Because I never had it, I never missed it. I never realized that I lived my life, swaddled in a protective layer of detachment and isolation. My greatest passions were always held at arms length, while my greatest pains were dull, crushing forces, grinding me down so slowly I hardly realized they were there._

_When you walked into my life, you tore it all away, and with the protections I'd cultivated so carefully stripped from me, I found the world a place of hard edges and rough corners, with a seemingly limitless supply of sharp, jagged pain. And yet, despite the wounds, I found my life to be so much happier, so much richer and so much fuller than I ever imagined it could be. I no longer cared if I pricked myself on the thorns, if I could bury my nose in the petals of the rose and truly drink in their perfume, instead of simply catching the faintest whiff at arms length._

_Tonight, though, I feel as if I'm falling towards the depths of a briar patch, unable to reach even a single bloom._

_Perhaps the words of my biological mother, the first of the thorns to cut me, were true. Perhaps I am evil. I should not feel this way. I should not feel as if I'm watching my own, torturous destruction rushing headlong toward me, but I do, and I've done everything I can to speed it along._

_I spoke truly before. Casey doesn't deserve you. He doesn't understand how wonderful, special and precious you are. If he did, he would not have hurt you. I would not have denied you something you wanted. If he deserved you, he would not be able to deny you anything._

_I know I don't deserve you either. How could I, when I have within me the capacity to hate Casey, for the sole crime of receiving your affections? I have never found jealousy the least bit attractive or admirable, but these past few weeks I burn with it, every time I think back to that night you met him at the Dirty Robber. I long to be the one you love, the one you entrust with the care of your heart, no matter that I've already proven unworthy of that lofty station._

_But no matter how unworthy I may have proven in the past, I'm determined not to fail you in this. I will dive into the thorns, willing and naked, and place your hand in Casey's if that is what it takes you make you happy. I will swallow my own desires and never let you know how I'm choking on them, if only to see you smile._

_And all I want in return, though I will not ask for it, nor blame you if you do not give it, is that you forgive me for wishing I could take his place at your side._

_With all my love,_

_Maura_

I closed my eyes, trying to avoid the pain I'd seen in Maura's writing, and hating myself just a little.

There aren't a lot of things that can make me feel unworthy or undeserving. I'm Jane fucking Rizzoli. I might be some blue collar Southie, but I'd worked my way up, reaching the top of my profession. I was the youngest officer ever promoted to the rank of detective in the BPD. I was the first woman to ever work in the drug control unit. I wasn't just a detective, I was a homicide detective, and I wasn't just a homicide detective, I was the homicide detective with the highest closure rate in BPD. Every award, every commendation, I earned.

But Maura's letter, that made me feel unworthy. Whether I'd intended to or not, I'd hurt Maura, and it wasn't the first time.

Maura loved me, and I hadn't seen it. Worse, I'd paraded my disaster of a love life in front of her, and counted on her for comfort and support after each catastrophe.

God, I was a detective. I was supposed to notice things like that. I was supposed to observe people and understand their motives and behaviors. How the hell did I miss it? Did I deliberately ignore it so I wouldn't have to deal with the consequences?

I opened my eyes and looked at the journal again, wondering if there was a letter where Maura explained how she could look at me, day after day, and not hate me for being such an insensitive bitch.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: And we're back to the explicit content.

* * *

**Jane**

_My Beloved Jane,_

_You've just left me, and though I should be thinking about Hope and Cailin, and the first meal I've shared with my biological mother, it's you my thoughts linger on. You have invaded me so completely, that even the simplest of things fills my heart with longing._

_As we worked tonight, clearing the table, I was struck by the simple, comfortable domesticity of our life together. Of morning runs, of making coffee, setting the table and preparing meals, clearing and cleaning. All done together, with comfort and practice._

_It was so easy to imagine, instead of going home, you would lead the way into the bedroom. We'd brush or teeth and undress. You'd put on a tank top and sweatpants while I was busy rubbing in my evening moisturizer. You'd watch as I'd start to put on my pajamas. I'd have the pants on, and be about to start buttoning the top, when your hands would catch my wrists, and I'd feel your lips brush the side of my neck, before you turned me around._

_The kiss would be soft and slow, tasting of the bubblegum flavored toothpaste you use, and I'd moan into it as your hands slid over the skin of my sides. You'd pull me along as you backed up to the bed, and when you sat down, I'd fall into your lap, and kiss you again,and we would stay like that for a time that seemed like forever. I would melt from the way your lips felt against mine, from the slow caress of your tongue, and from the security of your arms._

_Eventually, it wouldn't be enough, and though sometimes I feel as if I could live the whole of eternity warm and happy, if only you would hold me, proximity would inflame our desire. You would turn, laying me on the bed, and brush aside the champagne colored silk of my pajama top, baring my breasts as you lowered yourself on to me, pinning my right side to the bed. You would knead my right breast with your left hand, then lean down, suckling me as your hand slid lower._

_I would gasp when the tips of your fingers slipped under the waistband of my pants, and you would lift your head up, smiling with pride at what your touch always does to me. Your fingers would slide through neatly trimmed curls, and part desire soaked folds, and it would be your turn to moan. You would lean down and kiss me, and I'd lift my left leg, tilting it outwards, offing you the point of resistance. You would wrap your leg around my thigh, and I'd press up against your center as your fingers slipped easily inside me._

_We would make love slowly, tenderly, your hips rolling, caressing yourself with my thigh as your need soaked its way through your sweatpants and my pajamas, leaving its evidence on my skin as you moving in time with the fingers you were filling me with, over and over again. I'd wrap my arms around you tightly as the moment approached, and break the kiss, so I could look into those beautiful chocolate colored eyes, and tell you I love you. You would reply in kind, and as we reached the peak, we would pant each others names._

_Afterwards, we would curl up together. You'd lay on your back, and I would put my head on your left shoulder, and hook my right leg over your left, as your left arm wrapped around my shoulders, holding me close. We would drift off like that, into blissful, peaceful sleep._

_And I would dream of you, my love. I would dream of the day I could introduce you to my biological and adoptive mothers, to my father and to my sister as the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, to build a future with, and to grow old with._

_Because I want all of those things, my love, with you and only you._

_With all my love,_

_Maura_

I wiped the tears off my face a little more roughly than I intended, because I didn't want to cry, but I couldn't seem to stop.

It was there. Everything I'd ever looked for, with Casey, with Dean, with all the others who'd passed in and out of my life. A future with someone who loved me, unconditionally and unreservedly. All spelled out right there in Maura's beautiful words.

I wanted to put down the journal and call Maura. To tell her yes, and to come home, fibbies be damned, but there was still so much left to read. So, instead of picking up the phone I turned the page.


	6. Chapter 6

**Jane**

_My Beloved Jane,_

_I find it hard sometimes to know where to begin or what to say. I write these letters as an exercise, a way to purge thoughts and emotions I wish I didn't feel. It feels so rote to write that, or even think that. Your friendship has always been such a wonderful gift. I should be able to accept it for what it is, and not want more. It's unfair to you. It's unfair to me. I just can't help myself. I can't stop myself from loving you. From wanting you._

_When I talked to you about the longing I had to know my birth mother, I talked about the Oxytocin shaped hole in my life. I'm a scientist. I've spent my life trying to understand and quantify human behavior in terms of facts. Rules of science and biology. For you, I would throw all of that aside. I can't define you in terms of chemical reactions and hormonal responses. When I'm with you, I want to believe in all the poetry and romanticism that surrounds love in the dialog of human thought._

_You're not simply a source of oxytocin. When I look at you, I am always looking East, and it is always dawn, because you are the sun of my world, rising over the horizon, filling every dark corner with the most beautiful light of the day. When I hear you, I am in a jazz club in New Orleans, listening to the whiskey soaked voice, because you are the music, washing over me, giving voice to every feeling that's ever touched my heart. When I smell you, I am always wandering through a field of lavender, drowning in the scent, because you are my spring, bringing everything back to life. When I touch you, I am in a Paris market, running my fingers over the finest down comforter, because I know that when I need it, you will wrap me in warmth and safety. I may never know what it would be like to taste you, but I dream of it, of letting my lips wander over your body and completing my sense picture of you._

_I can name hormones, diagram chemical reactions and explain behavioral patterns all day long, but it's all meaningless to me when I try to understand you. I can only understand and define you in the language of poets. When I'm with you, even when I think of you, all the songs, poems and sonnets whose meaning eluded me my whole life suddenly make sense._

_And it hurts so much I just want to cry._

_I lost my biological mother tonight, for the second time. I lost a sister I didn't know I had, and never dreamed of. I should be feeling that, but I'm not. I'm laying in bed, weeping because I wanted so much for you to stay and hold me, and you left. I know it's not your fault. I've never asked, because I just don't know how, but I want to ask so badly, my love. I want to hold your head in my hands as I look you in the eyes and tell you I love you, and beg you to love me back, and to never walk out of my door to go back to your apartment again._

_I want you to be mine. My partner, my love, my life, my Jane._

_I know it's greedy to want that. I know I should accept that I'm just your best friend. I know that writing these letters just gives voice to my feelings and makes them stronger. But I don't know how to stop, and I'm not sure I want to._

_I just hope that some day, you can forgive me._

_With all my love,_

_Maura_

I set the journal on the nightstand again. I wanted to keep reading, but I knew I needed a break. It was almost 2:00 AM, and I'd read maybe two dozen letters so far. Most of them were short notes about something that had happened, or something Maura had seen, heard or read that made her think of me, and while those were beautiful, it was the longer letters that kept me turning the pages.

They were so deep, so heartfelt that they took my breath away. It was hard to believe it was actually Maura who wrote them. I was so used to reading her autopsy reports and listening to her talk about hormones and neurotransmitters and orbicularis oculi pars lateralis that it never occurred to me that she could write something so emotional and romantic. Not to mention so erotic.

But they were, and each one made me feel things I didn't think existed outside of one of those sappy romance novels Maura hides behind her medical texts.

The way she described what I meant to her was so beautiful it broke my heart. I'd have chosen different metaphors. Maura's voice was hardly whiskey soaked, and when I went to Paris, I'd never set foot in any of the markets, unless you counted the gift shop at the Louvre, but the feelings were the same. The way the day didn't really begin until I saw Maura, and the way it always seemed brighter when we were together. The way just the sound of Maura's voice made tension melt away and made me feel safe.

I got out of bed, taking the journal with me as I headed to the kitchen to get a beer. I opened it, with an actual bottle opener, instead of the edge of Maura's marble counter tops, then flopped down on the couch and sat the bottle on a coaster on the coffee table.

I looked down at the journal, wondering how such a small thing could hold so much feeling. So much happiness and pain. I remember Maura telling me once that thoughts were the most powerful force in the world. I was starting to believe her.

I looked up when I caught a flicker of light out of the corner of my eye. The kitchen light in the guest house. Ma getting up for Tony's 2:00 AM feeding.

I reached for my beer, wondering how Ma was going to take the news that I was in love with Maura.

I froze, the bottle half way to my lips.

I was in love with Maura.

I felt the corners of my mouth turning up into a grin.

I was in love with Maura.

And Maura was in love with me.

I wanted to get up and dance a jig. I was in love with Maura, and Maura was in love with me. Me and Maura were in love.

When the panic came, it was for none of the reasons I would have expected. I didn't panic because I was in love with Maura, or because I was in love with a woman, or because I was going to have to come out to my mother and my brothers and my partners. I didn't panic because of the shit I was sure to get from some of my coworkers.

I panicked because every relationship I'd ever been in had been an unmitigated disaster, and Maura's track record was even worse. I was going fuck it up. I always fucked it up. And when I fucked it up Maura would be gone.

I closed my eyes, trying to stop the fear and the panic. I just needed to think about this, approach it logically. It was a problem, a mystery. I got paid to solve those for a living, and I was damn good at it. I just needed... not evidence, I had evidence. I needed a witness. I needed someone who could tell me how to do this.

The only question was who? I didn't exactly have lesbians 'r' us on speed dial. In fact, the only lesbian I knew off the top of my head was the one my brother had insisted on asking out, despite all the hints I'd dropped.

I thought about it for a minute. That could work. We were friendly enough. I even had the number in my phone from the last department softball season.

I started to reach for my phone, then I remembered it was still on the bedside table, and it was two-fifteen in the morning.

I decided to call her in the morning. She'd probably be a lot more willing to have lunch with me if I didn't drag her out of bed in the middle of the night.

I looked down at the journal, and flipped it open, looking for the next letter.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: No explicit content. May be triggery. The timeline in this chapter is based on Lydia saying she was seven months pregnant in Crazy for You (3x07). (For the record, the show is absolutely shit about time lines, because based on the length of Angela's marriage, the timing of the high school reunion, and Tommy's age (given in 2x12) Jane and Frankie would have to be twins if they were both older than Tommy, unless Jane's high school holds a reunion every year)

* * *

**Jane**

_My Beloved Jane,_

_I almost lost you tonight._

_God, how those words frighten me. I almost lost you tonight. My love. My Jane. Almost gone._

_I'm so scared, Jane. Scared because I seem to be a reflection of the monsters in your life._

_Charles Hoyt said I'm like him, and while you might want to deny it, he's right. We shared so many characteristics. Intelligence, neglect and social isolation as a child, a fascination with the mechanics of life, a rabid, burning desire to understand other human beings, and a fundamental inability to do so. Difficulty forming healthy social attachments as an adult._

_The difference between Charles Hoyt and I was that whatever trigger, nature or nurture, causes psychopathy happened in him, and not in me. Conscience. The capacity for guilt and empathy. I had these things, and he did not._

_Now, I find myself a mirror of a second monster. Dominic Bianchi is no Charles Hoyt. He's a defective, pathetic creature, of no great intellect or particular skill. He is simply a broken thing that latched on to you, and convinced himself that he was in love with you, and you were in love with him._

_But I sit here, writing in this diary, knowing the contents of it, and wonder how I'm different from Bianchi. I've filled page after page, letter after letter with descriptions of my love for you, with details of how I'd imagine we'd make love. I started this to try to exorcise those feelings, to give them vent, so I could get over them and move on with our friendship. Instead, I ended up giving them a nest where they could grow and thrive._

_Is it really enough that I understand that you don't return my feelings?_

_I watched that video feed, and all I could think was how furious I was and how scared I was that he would hurt my love, my Jane._

_Mine. The word rings like an accusation in my ears. I can't even think about you anymore without feeling possessive. Proprietary._

_I have no right. None. And it doesn't seem to matter. You lay just down the hall in my guest room, and I burn with the desire to wake you up and tell you how I feel. After everything you went through tonight, all I can think of is pouring more unwanted affection over you._

_It makes me feel sick and dirty. It makes me feel like I'm the one who violated you._

_I'm sorry, Jane. I wish I could be stronger. I wish I could be what you want me to be._

_With all my love,_

_Maura_

I marked my page in the journal and left it on the coffee table as I rinsed out my beer bottle and dropped it in the recycling been. My scars were aching, and the pain didn't seem to want to let out, no matter how hard I rubbed them. It thought about a hot shower, the way the water usually eased the ache. It was worth a try, at least.

I grabbed the journal off the coffee table and headed back to Maura's bedroom, laying the journal on the nightstand before I headed into the bathroom, stripping as I went. I turned the hot water all the way up. Didn't bother with the cold at all. Just stepped into the scalding spray, and grabbed the body wash and the sponge and started scrubbing.

I didn't even realize what I was doing until the fourth time I washed my hair. I looked down at myself, at the patches of skin that had been scrubbed nearly raw, and it was all I could do to stop myself from putting a fist through the plate glass door of Maura's shower.

I turned off the water and got out, scrubbing myself dry with one of Maura's big, fluffy towels before I looked at myself in the mirror.

I knew I shouldn't be embarrassed. It was a common enough reaction to sexual assault, or in my case attempted sexual assault. Compulsive washing. Once I was able to use my hands again, I'd taken five or six showers a day for a while after Hoyt, and that hadn't lasted long. I'd been staked to that floor for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes after I woke up, and then Korsak had been there.

But fucking Bianchi... It wasn't some cellar in the middle of nowhere. The bastard had taken me right on the steps of headquarters. And it wasn't ever in twenty minutes, either. I spent hours tied to that bed, with that sick bastard all over me. He'd changed my fucking clothes, for God sake.

Three months. It had been three god damned months, and just the mention of him still made my skin crawl.

I couldn't even sleep in my own apartment for weeks, because my bedroom looked too much like the prison he'd held me in. I'd wanted to break my lease, but I couldn't afford to, so I replaced all the furniture, starting with my bed, which took longer than it should have, because of Riley fucking Cooper.

I actually growled as I thought about that day, the way Maura had fawned all over Riley's dumb ass tattoo. Stupid fucking Koi fish. I mean, really? I suppose if you were Japanese or something, but...

I snorted, and a moment later, I was doubled over laughing.

Fuck me. I was jealous. Not even like a little bit jealous, like 'smash her face in with a bunt pan' jealous. Like, eavesdrop on her, then run her name so I can report her DCU as a big old drug dealer jealous, because Maura had felt the need to feel up Riley fucking Cooper's tattoos.

God. How the fuck long had that been going on?

I stood there, staring at myself in the mirror, going over every guy Maura had ever dated. I thought about the satisfaction I'd felt when I got the news that Ian was wanted by InterPol. At the time, I'd told myself it was because one of my hunches had proven right, and not because I hated Ian's guts. I thought about how smug I'd been when Maura figured out how much of a loser Giovanni was, or how I hadn't really minded him so much once he backed off Maura. And there was always the absolutely vicious glee I felt watching the uniforms cuff that son of a bitch Garrett Fairfield.

I shook my head. I'd had it bad for years, and never even realized it.

I headed back into the bedroom, still laughing at myself for being so clueless. It wasn't until I looked at the clock and realized that I'd been up for nearly twenty hours that I realized what was going on. I was exhausted, and probably emotionally punch drunk. It had been a long day, and then I'd come home to an emotional roller coaster ride. No wonder Bianchi's name had hit me so hard. I was like a fighter, staggering from one too many blows to the head.

I wanted to finish the journal, but I couldn't do it. Not tonight. I needed sleep.

I set the alarm for 8:00 AM and climbed into bed. I was asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Really explicit content. May be triggery for some people. Serious themes of D/s and power play. Mentions of Branding. For anyone who doesn't know, the American Express Centurion Card is also known as an American Express Black Card. It's made of solid titanium, and has no spending limit. I've seen one swiped for upwards of one hundred grand.

* * *

**Jane**

I turned off the alarm and sat up, stretching slowly. It was 8:00 AM. Normally, I'd be cranky after only getting five hours of sleep, but that morning, I felt like I'd slept for a week. I was excited. I couldn't wait to get back to the journal. I was hoping I could finish it before Ma brought Tony over at 10:00 AM.

I stretched one more time, then grabbed the journal and flopped back on the bed, smiling as I flipped it open to the last place I'd marked.

_My Beloved Jane,_

_I promised myself I wouldn't do this. After the last letter, I took this journal out of my purse and locked it away in my bedside table. I was so proud of myself when a week passed, then two, then three. I told myself I'd done it, that I'd kicked the habit. But like I'm like an alcoholic who tries to quit while still going to the bar with his friends every night._

_You're my drug, Jane, and I'm hopelessly addicted, and I've fallen off the wagon._

_Did you know that Fenway park has wedding packages for up to five thousand guests? It was all I could do to stop myself from requesting an information packet._

_I can't stop imagining it. Standing across home plate from you, holding your hands in mine, looking into your eyes as was we recite our vows. Sometimes I imagine something we've written ourselves. Other times it's a variation of the ceremony from the Book of Common Prayer, omitting the promise to obey._

_Once, I tested that word. Obey. The idea of promising to obey you sent a shiver up my spine and made it difficult to breath. I wrapped my arms around myself and imagined they were yours, and as I sat here, pretending it was you holding me, your breasts pressed against my back, your breath hot on my neck, I thought of something else._

_It must have been brought on by the case, because I've never thought about anything like it before. I've never been even remotely submissive._

_I could feel you, my love. You pushed aside my hair, and trace the brand on the back of my neck with the tip of your tongue. Four raised letters, burned into the skin, spelling out a single word. Jane. Your mark. A stamp of ownership and possession._

_I imagined the way you bought the suit you were wearing. You walked into the Armani Exchange like you owned it. The salesmen fell all over themselves to help you, because they could feel the power radiating off of you as I followed you meekly through the door. I sat quietly and watched as they measured and fitted a magnificent charcoal pinstripe three piece suit to your perfect form. And when they were done, you added a matching tie and a starched white button down shirt to the order before they led you up to the counter. You didn't even ask me when you reached into my purse, took out my wallet, and handed them my American Express Centurion Card, and when they handed you the credit card slip, I watched as you signed it with a single word, written boldly and without hesitation. Jane's._

_I also imagined something else tucked inside the suit. Another symbol of your power, pressing into me as you held me. You left a trail of kisses up the left side of my neck, before your teeth sunk into the soft skin of my earlobe, biting hard enough to make me whimper._

"_Mine," you said. "You're mine." You spun me around, and before I knew it, you were kissing me. It was rough and strong, but not demanding. You had no need to demand, or claim. You simply took what belonged to you. I don't give it to you, or let you take it. Either of those would imply that I had a choice, and there was even the possibility of resisting or denying you when there wasn't._

_I felt your hands moving up my back, finding the hook at the top of my dress and opening it, then pulling the zipper down. You moved back, just enough to allow the dress to fall when you reached up and pulled it off my shoulders, leaving me naked before you, clad only in a pair of heels. I stepped out of the dress, kicking it aside, and waited._

_You rested your hand on my shoulder, and with the slightest downward push, told me what my duty to you was. I knelt gladly, eager to please you, reaching up and unbuttoning your blazer, then unzipping your pants. I reached inside, and drew it out. The phallus you'd told me to purchase. The firm, inky black medical grade silicon stands there, eight inches long and an inch and three quarters in diameter. Larger in every dimension than any of my prior lovers. Your instructions had been specific, and I'd followed them to perfection. "Find one I can use to ruin you for anyone else."_

_If I hadn't already been wet, I would have become so when your fingers threaded through my hair so you could get a grip and guide me forward. I barely had time to part my lips before the head slips between them and the shaft begins sliding into my mouth._

_I'd practiced this, like I practice everything. The suppression of the gag reflex, the relaxation of muscles, even the right tilt of the neck to allow you to slide past my mouth and settle into my throat. I'd prepared for it for years, but even though I'd used my mouth with prior lovers, you were the first I'd accepted this way. I'm surprised how easy it was. Easy quickly became heady and intoxicating as your hips began to roll. I reached up, between your legs, and found the root of your new cock where it ran along your labia before taking a sharp turn to curl up inside you. I pushed up, adding pressure as I closed my mouth tighter, adding resistance, so that with each thrust, the warm rubber ground against your clit._

_You took your time, drawing out your own pleasure, and I loved every moment. The weight of you in my mouth, the scent of you each time my nose was crushed against your pelvis, the gentle choking when you were filling my throat and tears were streaming down my reddening face from the lack of air. The moment when you gripped tightly, burying yourself to the root as your body shook and twitched, and for the first time in my life, a lover came in my mouth._

_When you pulled out of my mouth, I was so wet, so heavy with need, I couldn't stand it. You held out your hand and I took it. You helped me up, and then turned me around, pushing me towards the bed. I climbed onto it, and you guided me into the position you wanted. I waited there for several long minutes on my knees, my feet hooked over the edge of the mattress, bent forward so my breasts pressed against my knees, with my arms stretched out above my head and my hair tossed forward, exposing the brand on my neck._

_You kissed me on the base of my spine, and worked your way up, leaving a kiss above each vertebra until you reached my neck. I shuddered with desire as I felt you tracing the brand with your tongue again, reminding me it was there, reminding me who I belonged to._

"_Who do you belong to?" you asked me._

"_You," I replied without hesitation._

_That wasn't good enough for you. You demanded more. "I want you to say it."_

"_I belong to you," I said, this time speaking with more force._

_You gave me another command. "Say my name."_

"_I belong to Jane," I declared proudly as warmth suffused my body._

"_Forever," you said, and I felt two of your fingers slip inside me easily, my own arousal smoothing their passage. "I've had you here." I moaned as your fingers curled down against my front wall, grinding over my g-spot, then whimpered at the sudden loss as you withdrew them, only to moan again as those same fingers slipped between my parted lips a moment later. "And I've had you here."_

_I sucked my own essence off of your fingers as if it were the mythical water of life, but you were teasing me again, and before I could drink my fill, you took your fingers away._

"_Now I'm going to take what's mine."_

_I felt it then, the head of your cock, wet and slick, slipping not between the folds of my vulva, but between the rounded globes of my ass. The tip found the right spot quickly, and I shuddered as you began to apply pressure. I'd tried it on my own of course, but I'd never trusted a lover with this, and now, I was so glad I hadn't, that you would be the first._

"_It's mine, Maura. The last bit of your virginity is mine, just like the rest of you."_

_Before I could respond or react, you rolled your hips, and you were inside me. It wasn't gentle or slow. You were taking what you wanted, what belonged to you. It hurt, and I loved you for the gift of the pain._

_The first stroke felt like all of you, but the second felt like more, opening me wider, filling me deeper, and the third and the fourth, until I lost count and could feel your hips slamming into me through the fabric of your pants with each thrust. I lost track of the pain, and somewhere along the way, it vanished, leaving only the delicious feeling of you inside me._

_I barely realized it was going to happen before I came. It was hard and intense, and satisfying in a different way from my normal orgasms, and I knew I would beg for this in the future._

_You weren't finished. You didn't relent, didn't even slow down, but I felt your breath on my ear again._

"_Do you like it Maura? Tell me you like it. Tell me you love being my whore."_

_I buried my face in the comforter, crying out as shame and desire and love poured over me in equal measure._

_You thrust into me again, and barked out a demand. "Say it!"_

"_I love being your whore." The words had a powerful, tangible effect on me, like each syllable was a tongue, stroking my clit._

"_Say my name!" you demanded._

"_I love being Jane's whore!" I screamed, and I came again, and I could feel your body on top of me, stiff and rigid as you shuddered your way through your orgasm._

_We both lay there panting, gasping for air, and I loved the feel of your weight on top of me and your breath, hot on my skin. After your breathing finally steadied, I felt your lips brush my ear._

"_You're mine, Maura," you whispered. "You're mine, and I love you. Now and forever."_

_I wept then. Because it's all a fantasy and I don't want it to be. Because I want you to want me like that. Because I want to give myself to you, to belong to you, to be owned by you, for all my life._

_And because my fix was over, and I knew I would have to come down from the high._

_I feel like I have so much more to say, but I must end here, my love, because my imagination is spent, and right now, I need a different sort of catharsis than ink on paper. I can't have your hands on me tonight, so mine will have to do._

_I leave you..._

_With all my love,_

_Maura_

I dropped the journal on the bed and closed my eyes, because dear God, Maura was definitely trying to kill me. There was no other explanation for it.

I was shaking. Literally shaking. I wanted Maura. I wanted to pin her to the bed and fuck her senseless. To do everything she'd described in the journal to her, and then some.

Except Maura was hundreds of miles away, and she wouldn't be back until late the next day, and there was no way in hell I could wait that long.

Why the hell didn't I grab my vibrator out of my nightstand when I was packing? Oh, right, because at the time I didn't have my own room, and I was too weirded out by the idea of getting off in Maura's house.

I shook my head, laughing, because I was about to get myself off in Maura's bed, and the idea didn't weird me out at all. In fact, it made me whimper. Just the idea that not too long ago, Maura had been laying in the same bed, making herself come was driving me nuts.

I thought about using one of Maura's toys. I knew where she kept them, and I knew she had a much better collection than my one cheap little vibrator. I knew because Maura had absolutely no sense of shame, and the words 'Oh, I have one of these' had come up repeatedly while we were inventorying a victim's bedroom once.

I didn't do it because it felt a little too personal, too invasive. She'd told me how she felt and what she wanted, and I knew damn well how I felt and what I wanted, but we weren't together yet. It would be different if we were an official couple, but until then, I was stuck with my hands.

I reached up, cupping my breasts, kneading them roughly, pinching my nipples. I was planning on going slow, taking my time. That lasted about thirty seconds. I needed to come, and I needed to come right now, so I slid my hands down, running them over my stomach as I pulled my legs up until I could feel my heels pressed against my ass. I spread my legs and slipped my hands down between them, sliding two fingers on my left hand inside me. I was a little surprised how easily they went in. Normally, I needed a little stimulation before I got to the point where I could take anything, but not that morning.

I found my clit with my right hand, rubbing it in rough, fast circles, as I rocked my hips and pumped my fingers, and imagined taking Maura the way she'd described in her letter.

The whole thing played itself out in my head. Maura on her knees while I filled her mouth. Maura bent over, face down on the bed as I spread her ass. It didn't even slow me down that I'd never once dreamed of wearing a strap on before, or that the idea of anal sex had always turned me off. Every detail of the letter, every image Maura had put in my head, made me need to come even more than I already did.

I closed my legs so I could roll over and get my knees under me. Once I was propped up on knees and shoulders, I started moving my hands and hips again. I could imagine what I looked like, ass in the air, knees and shoulders buried in the mattress. It was a filthy image, but not nearly so filthy as the image of Maura pinned under me, being filled with the dildo I was wearing while I reached around, rubbing her clit while I fucked her hard and fast.

I was close. God, I was so close it was going to kill me if it didn't happen soon, but I needed a little bit more to give me that final push, so I pulled my fingers all the way out. Then I pushed three back in. There still wasn't a lot of resistance, but the added pressure was amazing. Exactly what I needed to push me over. I bit down on the comforter to keep myself from screaming as I came.

When it was over, I collapsed on the bed, weak, spent and barely able to see straight.

"God." I muttered the word, not sure if I was moaning in satisfaction, or praying or both. I'd never come like that before.

It took a while before my heart stopped pounding and my breathing settled, but I got up and headed to the bathroom, taking a few minutes to wash my hands and clean up. I was definitely going to need a shower before I faced Ma and Tony, but I still had time. I wanted to get through more of the journal, and I wasn't entirely sure if I was going to get to the end without needing to do that again.

Best to wait on the shower, just in case.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Explicit content, pregnant sex.

* * *

**Jane**

_My Beloved Jane,_

_I've thought about it, of course. What it would be like to have a family with you, to raise children and watch them become adults under the touch of both our influence. I've day dreamed about it so much, I have the whole thing planned. I know how long I would need to take the fertility drugs before I was ready to have my eggs harvested. I know the cost of the procedure, the best clinics to have it done at, how long it takes to get an appointment. I even have the donor picked out._

_It would have to be Frankie, of course. Frankie, because while Tommy favors you in appearance, Frankie favors you in every way that matters. Intelligence, character, integrity, strength, resolve, courage and the capacity for love. I know there is no guarantee, but to do everything possible to capture all the best of you in any life we create, and I know that this would be the closest I could possibly come to carrying our child inside me._

_Because, I always assumed that it would be me. I always imagined the lives we created would grow within my body. It never occurred to me, before today, that it might be otherwise, until I sat in a birthing class, massaging Lydia's back. Until the moment I pictured you sitting in front of me, heavy with my child as I cared for you._

_I've tried to blot it out, to think of something else, but I can't get the image of how beautiful you would be out of my mind. Of how it would feel to sit in our bed and rub your back slowly, easing the aches and tension. I can't get it out of my head, any more than I can stop thinking of how much I would like to make love to you like that._

_I would start with a long, slow massage, to relax you so you could focus on what I was doing for you. I'd lift your shirt off, and slowly pepper your shoulders with kisses as I reached up and unfastened the maternity bra. You would hold your breasts, already heavy with milk as I slipped out from behind you, and I would look into your eyes as I lowered you back onto the pillows._

_I'd see the insecurity in your eyes. You doubt your own beauty at the best of times, so I'd whisper in your ear, telling you how beautiful I find you, how much I love you, how proud I am of you, and how wet just the sight of you is making me at that moment._

_I'd laugh at the small moan that escaped you, and I'd slip down, peeling away your sweat pants and panties. You'd whisper a quiet, shy request, asking me to let you see me, and I'd lean down to kiss you, before I slipped out of bed, just long enough to undress. I'd blush, just a little, at the hungry look in your eyes, and climb back into bed quickly, seeking out your mouth with my own, kissing you with all the passion and desire I felt for the mother of my child._

_I'd caress you, running my hand over the swell of your stomach as I kissed my way down to your throat. You'd start to pull away when I reached your breasts, swollen and aching with the weight of the milk that filled them. I'd look up into your eyes, knowing you hadn't been using the pump I'd bought for you, and I'd ask you softly to trust me._

_You'd give a small, nervous nod, and I'd reach up, drawing your hands away from your breasts, then I'd cup them gently in my own, and lean down, running my tongue over one of your nipples. You'd sigh softly at the touch, the skin slowly hardening. I'd look up into your eyes again as I closed my lips around the pink flesh, watching you. I'd suck hard, and for a moment, you'd whimper at the pain, but then, you'd let down, and I'd listen to you moan as your milk filled my mouth. You'd reach up, cradling my head in your hands as my hand slipped down between your legs and I teased you, parting your folds and running my fingers over the soft wet skin inside._

_I would take my time, nursing and stroking you until I'd taken every drop from that breast, and then, I'd work my way over to the other, leaving small, delicate kisses in my wake. I'd find your other nipple already hard and waiting for me. I'd smile, proud of how much I'd turned you on as I took it in my mouth and begin to suck on it, and as you let down and the milk began to flow, I'd slip two fingers inside you._

_I would be so gentle with you, my love. I'd work my fingers in and out, curling them up to find your g-spot as my thumb stroked your clit. I'd look up, making sure to hold your gaze as you approached your release. I'd see the exact moment you needed more, and I'd give it, picking up the pace until your body tenses and shakes with your orgasm._

_Afterwards, I'd gather you in my arms. I'd hold you and pet your hair, and whisper in your ear, telling you how lucky I felt and how happy I was to have you, the woman I love and the mother of my child, my beloved wife, there in my arms._

_It's such a beautiful dream, my love, and it makes me so happy and so sad at the same time. Happy, because a future with you has become my idea of a perfect life. Sad, because I don't think I'll ever have it. I don't blame you. I did this all to my self. I simply long for you with all my heart, and wish desperately that we could find happiness together._

_With all my love,_

_Maura_

I buried my face in the pillow, wondering if Maura's libido was like that all the time. If it was, I was gonna die young. Happy, definitely happy, but young.

I laughed, shaking my head because I knew I was getting months of pent up desire thrown at me in just a couple of hours. Add to that the fact that it had been... God, Dean had been the last time I'd taken someone to bed, and the most generous descriptor I could come up with for that was 'adequate.' I honestly couldn't remember the last time I'd had a really satisfying lay. It was before DCU, I know that. Mostly because Dean was the first guy I'd actually slept with since making detective.

I looked at the journal again, smiling, because as nice, and frustrating, as Maura's fantasies were, they were just the frosting on the cake. I tried to hide it from everyone, but deep down, I was a romantic, and Maura's repeated affirmations of love had me glued to the pages of that journal.

If someone had told me the day before that I'd ever be romantically involved with Maura, I'd have laughed in their faces. I'd probably have punched them for good measure. But not five minutes ago, I'd finished a letter where Maura was day dreaming about us being married, and I thought it was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever read. I wanted that to be our future. I ached for it.

I could see it so clearly. Me and Maura married, raising Tony together. Maybe having one of our own in a couple of years. I'd put in for my Sergeant's exam. I'd hate having to break up the little dream team me, Frost and Korsak had going, but a Sergeant worked more regular hours, and spent a lot less time on the street and the wrong end of some perp's gun. Give it a few years, and I could probably even make Lieutenant. I was no Joey Grant, but my name and my picture had been splashed across the paper enough. I had a bit of juice.

I hated trading on it, but for Maura and Tony, I could do it. I'd still be doing good work, still bringing down the bad guys. But I'd also be there for my family. I'd make it home for dinner on a regular basis. I'd have a future that was something other than turning into a female version of Korsak.

I looked over at the clock. It read 8:45 AM. I had just enough time to finish the last few letters, then grab a shower.


	10. Chapter 10

**Jane**

_My Beloved Jane,_

_I feel so stupid, so humiliated. I wonder how I ever hoped someone could love something as pathetic as me._

_When Dennis walked back into my life, I fully intended to refuse to speak to him. The way he treated me was reprehensible. For someone to simply disappear for months, without so much as a word, a call, or an email. It was insulting. It was humiliating. I kept asking "what was wrong with me, that I could be so easily cast aside by so many different people? Why does no one love me?"_

_But my weakness was stronger than my pride. I needed so desperately to feel loved, or at the very least, desired. That there was someone, anyone, who wanted all of me. If it couldn't be you, I was desperate enough to accept any substitute._

_I can't keep doing this, Jane. Yesterday, loving you and not having you nearly killed me. Today, it's worse. I see you holding Tony, hear you on the phone trying to arrange custody, and I remember my dreams of us starting a family and building a future._

_I'll try to hold on, because I know you need me now, more than ever before. I'll try to swallow my feelings, to reach for you only as a friend and not as a would be lover, but I don't know how much longer I can do this before something has to give, and I only hope that our friendship is strong enough to survive when it does._

_With all my love,_

_Maura_

I wiped the tears from my face, wondering again how I could have missed what Maura felt. Hating myself because she'd nearly gotten killed because I couldn't get my head out of my ass. If I had, I could have spared Maura so much pain, and I would never forgive myself for that.

I looked over at the phone. I wanted to call Maura, tell her to tell the fibbies to go fuck themselves and come home. I wanted her here. I wanted to hold her, kiss her and make love to her.

The only thing that stopped me was that I'd promised myself I'd finish the journal before I made any decisions

Oh, I knew I was kidding myself. There was never any decision to make. Not once I realized I was in love with Maura. That I'd probably been in love with Maura as far back as the Fairfield case. I just didn't want there to be any doubt.

I turned back to the journal. There were only a handful of letters left.


	11. Chapter 11

**Jane**

_My Beloved Jane,_

_It's Friday morning as I sit writing this. You've just left for work, and Angela is sitting across from me, rocking Tony and singing him a lullaby. I've had three weeks to taste what my life could be like. After months, I've finally screwed my courage to the sticking place. I know what I want, and for the first time in my life, I'm going to ask for it._

_If you've read this journal, you know what I want. I love you with all that I am, and in every way I know how. We're friends, and then we took a step and became best friends. I want to take another step. I want to be your partner, your girlfriend, your lover, the person you raise your child with and hopefully, someday, your wife._

_If you can not return my feelings, I will not blame you. I'm not going to ask the impossible._

_But if you do feel what I feel, if you can find it in yourself to love me as more than your best friend, I ask you, I beg you, to take this step with me._

_I ask you to love me._

_With all my love,_

_Maura_

I closed the journal and carefully wrapped the elastic band around it, then sat it on the bedside table with all the reverence I would have handled a holy relic. Then I picked up my cell, and pulled up Maura's name from the contact list.

I was just about to call her when I realized that was the wrong way to do this. She'd asked me in writing, and I should answer the same way. I hit the text message button, smiling as I heard Korsak scoffing in my head. I ignored him. No way was I waiting until I could get a physical letter to Maura.

_My Beloved Maura,_

_Yes, forever and always._

_With all my love,_

_Jane_

I smiled as I hit the send button, then climbed out of bed and headed for the shower. Today was going to be busy.


	12. Chapter 12

**Jane**

I looked up from the pan of bacon as Ma walked in, carrying Tony.

"Morning, Ma."

"Morning," Ma said, and I rolled my eyes. Her tone meant she was still pissed about me not sharing the contents of the envelope with her. Considering the explicit nature of the content, I was really glad I hadn't. Besides, I had a feeling she was about to get distracted. I've heard that your kid coming out was a bit of a shock.

I'd considered waiting, talking with Maura first, but I knew that was a bad idea. I knew me. The longer I waited to do this, the tougher it would get. I'd build it up in my mind as something to be afraid of. Then I'd get panicky. Then I'd put it off. Then there would be a screaming match when Ma walked in on me doing Maura on the kitchen counter.

Fuck if I was gonna sneak around with Maura like I was a damn teenager.

"You want breakfast, Ma? I made enough for two." I was a little surprised at how normal the question came out.

"Well, if you're willing to share."

I laughed and shook my head as I divided the bacon and eggs onto a couple of plates. I had to wait a few seconds for the toast to pop, but I dropped a couple of pieces on each plate, then picked them up and carried them over to the table.

"How was my little man last night?" I asked as I dropped a kiss on Tony's head.

Ma smiled up at me as I set a plate in front of her. "He was a little fussy. I think he missed you and Maura."

I dropped down in the seat directly across from Ma. "I can understand that. I miss Maura too."

"She'll be back tomorrow."

"I know." I looked at Ma and took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, which were suddenly very... nervy. It had been one thing to decide I was going to come out to Ma, to make jokes about it in my head. But now that the moment was there, and I was sitting across from my very Catholic mother, telling her I was about to start dating my female best friend was a little scary.

"I kind of wanted to talk to you about that," I said, deciding to ease into it.

"Why? Is something the matter?"

"No, I mean, I..." I took another deep breath. I was Jane Rizzoli. I was awesome. I tackled two hundred pound men without a thought. I broke furniture over the heads of meth crazed gang bangers. I had this. "I think it's a good thing, but I'm not sure how you'll feel about it."

Or maybe not. Jesus, I was about as smooth as sand paper.

"Feel about what?"

"Okay, you've got to promise not to yell." I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes at herself. God, this was pathetic.

Ma glared at her. "Spit it out, Jane."

"Oh, come on, Ma. It's not that easy, okay." I closed my eyes, reaching up and pinching the bridge of my nose. I could do this. I could. I'd just say it. Me and Maura were in love. Me and Maura were a couple.

How hard could it be? I'd say it, and then tomorrow, I'd get to make out with Maura on the couch. There would be a lot of groping, and maybe some sex. Not sex on the couch, because Ma and Frankie both have keys, but definitely some sex. Maura sex. In the bedroom.

Totally worth it.

I opened my eyes and looked at Ma, who was still glaring at me. It gave me a whole new level of appreciation for my first date at Merch. What was her name? Miranda? No, Mary Ann. Maybe. She'd told me her coming out story.

How had she done it? Oh yeah. She'd done it by voice mail. That suddenly seemed like a really good option. I'd call Ma's cell phone and wait for the tone. Then I'd just say it.

I'd say, "Ma, I'm gay."

I slapped my hand over my mouth. Shit. I'd said that out load. What the hell?

I watched Ma for a minute. She just sat there, her mouth hanging open. The longer it went on, the more nervous I got.

Okay, I could still fix this. How do I fix this?

"Oh, God," I said. I buried my face in my hands. "That wasn't what I meant to say,"

"Well, what did you mean to say?" Ma asked in a surprisingly quiet tone of voice.

"Um, okay, it was what I meant to say, but not how I meant to say it." Jesus H. Christ. When did I turn into such a babbling idiot? I moved my hands so I could see Ma's face. I expected her to be red faced with rage, but she just looked a little confused.

"Sweetie, calm down."

Okay, that was a good sign, right? "You're not upset?" I asked.

"No, Jane. I'm a little confused, because you're babbling like your uncle Lenny after his second bottle of wine. I'm guessing this has something to do with Maura?"

I nodded, feeling a lot of the tension fade away. "Yes."

"Tell me everything, sweetie."

I felt myself blush, and I shook my head. There was no way on earth I was telling Ma everything. I took another deep breath. I could do this. It was like making a statement to the press. Tell the truth, just leave out the details you don't want made public. Like all the graphic descriptions of kinky sex. I did it all the time. Not the kinky sex part, although I wouldn't mind doing that all the time. The talking to the press part.

God, I really did sound like uncle Lenny after too much booze.

Okay, Ma wasn't mad. She wasn't upset at all. This was good. Now, I just needed to calm the fuck down.

"That envelope she left me last night had a journal in it. She's been writing me letters for a while. Months. Since right after we fought."

Ma nodded and reached over, gently rocking the baby carrier as Tony started to fuss.

"She left a note, asking me to read the letters while she was out of town. She said she wanted to tell me about them in person, but she was too nervous. She was afraid I'd take it badly." I shrugged.

"The letters are all about how much she loves me." I looked down, taking a moment to think about it. "I don't know, Ma. I think she was right. You know me. I hate talking about feelings, and the stuff in that journal was all about how she felt. If she'd tried to talk to me about it, I probably would have completely freaked out, but when I read those letters, I couldn't run away. I couldn't refuse to listen."

"They were beautiful, Ma. I didn't think anyone would ever feel that way about me, but there it was, page after page." I blinked, trying to clear my eyes and was a little surprised when I felt tears spill down my cheeks. I reached up and wiped them away. "God, I feel like I spent half the night crying. I can't seem to stop."

Ma reached across the table, resting her hand on my forearm and squeezing it.

"It's okay to cry sometimes, Janie. It doesn't mean you're weak."

I nodded. "I know, Ma. I just feel a little ridiculous, you know. I should be happy. I am happy, but I can't stop crying."

Ma nodded, and squeezed my arm again. "Sweetie, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"You're talking a lot about how Maura feels, and how much she loves you. How do you feel? Is this what you want?"

The question surprised me a little, but then, Ma did that sometimes. Skipped straight past the bullshit to what was important. I just nodded. "Yeah. God, Ma, you have no idea. I didn't realize it until I read those letters, but I think I've wanted this for a long time. I think I've been in love with her for at least a couple of years. I..."

I stopped when I realized I didn't know how to explain it. I just didn't have the words. But I knew who did. "Hold on a second."

Before Ma could say anything, I got up and practically ran to Maura's bedroom, and picked up the journal. I took a minute, thumbing through it to find the letter I wanted, then marked the page and went back to the table. I sat down and opened the journal again, skimming until I found the portion of the letter I was looking for.

"_When I look at you, I am always looking East, and it is always dawn, because you are the sun of my world, rising over the horizon, filling every dark corner with the most beautiful light of the day. When I hear you, I am in a Jazz club in new Orleans, listening to the whiskey soaked voice, because you are the music, washing over me, giving voice to every feeling that's ever touched my heart. When I smell you, I am always wandering through a field of lavender, drowning in the scent, because you are my spring, bringing everything back to life. When I touch you, I am in a Paris market, running my fingers over the finest down comforter, because I know what when I need it, you will wrap me in warmth and safety."_

I skipped the last line of that paragraph, because as beautiful as it was, I was not going to talk to Ma about how Maura wanted to taste me. No way, no how.

"_I can name hormones, diagram chemical reactions and explain behavioral patterns all day long, but it's all meaningless to me when I try to understand you. I can only understand and define you in the language of poets. When I'm with you, even when I think of you, all the songs, poems and sonnets who's meaning eluded me my whole life suddenly make sense."_

"_And it hurts so much I just want to cry."_

"_I lost my biological mother tonight, for the second time. I lost a sister I didn't know I had, and never dreamed of. I should be feeling that, but I'm not. I'm laying in bed, weeping because I wanted so much for you to stay and hold me, and you left. I know it's not your fault. I've never asked, because I just don't know how, but I want to ask so badly, my love. I want to hold your head in my hands as I look you in the eyes and tell you I love you, and beg you to love me back, and to never walk out of my door to go back to your apartment again._

"_I want you to be mine. My partner, my love, my life, my Jane."_

I closed the journal and looked up, and was surprised to see Ma crying.

"Ma?"

Ma reached up, wiping the tears away. "I'm sorry. It's just... You're right. That is beautiful."

I nodded. "That's how I feel about her, too. I might not be able to phrase it as nicely, but I don't feel like my day has started until I see her, and when she's not with me, it's like something is missing. I don't know why it took me so long to figure it out. Maybe I was lying to myself because I didn't think she'd feel the same way, or maybe I'm just an idiot, but... I want this, Ma. I love her. I love her so much that the thought of not having her terrifies me."

Ma gave me a big, watery smile. "I'm happy for you, Janie. I'm happy for you both."

I didn't really know what to say. I'd expected a fight, maybe a screaming match, but hearing those words from Ma meant the world to me, and all I could do was get up, walk around the table, and pull Ma into a hug.

"I love you," Ma said.

"I love you, too."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Yes, I'm actually putting Kris from Traffic in here, because I love the twitter exchanges.

* * *

**Jane**

I held Tony in my arms, rocking him gently. I'd finally managed to burp him after he finished his bottle, and I was really hoping I'd be able to get him to take a nap. Fortunately, the Dirty Robber was fairly slow on a Saturday afternoon, and Murray had opened up the back seating area for me, so I had a little bit of privacy. I suspected it had more to do with not wanting the site of a baby to freak out his regulars than him just being nice, but hey, if he didn't want kids in there, he shouldn't have added the grill part of bar and grill.

"Rizzoli."

I looked up, smiling as I saw the tall, curvy redhead walking towards me. It was easy to see why Frankie had been interested, even if my little brother was a bit clueless. I was feeling a little embarrassed by the whole thing that morning. After all, I'd figured out she was a lesbian because she was the captain of Traffic's softball team, wore the same shoes I did, and spent all her off duty time hanging out with women.

I was the captain of homicide's softball team, wore the same shoes she did, and spent all my off duty time hanging out with one particular woman.

I had a sneaking suspicion that I was going to be wondering how I'd ever managed to earn my gold shield for a good long while.

"Hey Kris. How's traffic treating ya?" I asked.

"Same old, same old," she said as she pulled out a chair and sat down. "I'm trying to decide whether to shoot the next guy who calls me a meter maid, or just beat him to death with my baton."

I snorted. "Sounds like traffic alright."

Kris leaned forward, looking at Tony. "Who's the little guy?"

"This is Tony," I said. I reached down and took one of his hands in mine and waving it at Kris. "Say high to Kris."

Kris smiled. "Cute fellow, but I didn't much picture you as the baby sitting type."

I looked up and shrugged. "Long story, but apparently I'm the adopting type."

Kris' eyebrows shot up. "Oh. Wow. That's big."

"Tell me about it," I said. "But it's that, or let social services have the little fellow, and there's no way."

Kris nodded. "Yeah. I get that. One of the reasons I transferred from patrol. I couldn't take the domestics anymore."

"Thanks for agreeing to meet me," I said.

Kris grinned. "Hey, the hottest detective in BPD asked me on a date. No way I was turning that down."

I felt my jaw drop. Did she think...? Fuck. Did I ask her out on a date without realizing it? Was it some kind of lesbian thing that I was clueless about? I tried to say something, but I couldn't figure out what. I'd asked her here for advice. I didn't want to start by offending her.

I was still sputtering like an idiot when she burst out laughing. "God, you should see the look on your face. I wish I'd gotten a picture. That was priceless."

I didn't know whether to sigh in relief or murder her, but in the end, I settled for an annoyed glare.

Kris raised her hands in a defensive posture. "Easy, Rizzoli. I'm just fu..." She stopped, looking down at Tony. "Just messing with you."

I shook my head, and looked down at Tony. He'd drifted off in my arms. "Sorry," I said. "Long night. I'm an easy target this morning"

Kris shrugged. "No problem. I should know better than to tease the straight girls by now. Although, if you ever want advice on switching teams..." She trailed off, waggling her eyebrows.

Well, that was one way to break the ice. "Um... Actually..."

Kris looked like Christmas had come early. "No way! Seriously?"

I blushed, ducking down a little, and nodded.

"Oh, you are gonna make so many girls on the force so happy. Of course, you're gonna have to start carrying a baton again, just to beat them off."

I groaned and hung her head, shaking it. "One girl, and she's not on the force."

Kris sighed. "Already breaking girls' hearts. So, who is she?"

I looked up and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to put the pieces together. Really, it shouldn't take a detective.

"No! Oh, no way! Tell me you did not bag Doctor Maura 'I wear tailored Chanel to a crime scene' Isles."

"Can you keep it down?" I said. "We're not exactly out. Hell, we're not even officially together yet." Honestly, I was more worried about her waking the baby, but I couldn't admit that. It would spoil my image. Like asking for dating advice from a near stranger wasn't doing that already.

Kris nodded and leaned back. "So, what? You want advice on how to figure out if she's into you or something?"

I shook my head. "No. She flat out told me she was interested. In fact, she was pretty... explicit about it."

"Oh, you lucky bi... dog. So, what are you doing here with me if you've got all that and a bag of chips waiting at home."

"She's in D.C. right now, doing a consult for the fibbees. She kind of dropped the bomb on her way out of town. Said to think about it while she was gone, and let her know when she got back."

"And?"

"I lasted all of about twelve hours before I texted her and damn near asked her to marry me."

Kris laughed and shook her head. "God, Rizzoli, even as a lesbian, you're an over achiever."

"What?"

"It's in the rule book. You're not supposed to rent the U-Haul until the second date."

I blushed and looked down. "Uh... we kind of moved in together three weeks ago."

I heard muffled laughter and looked up. Kris had covered her face with her hands, and her shoulders were shaking.

I rolled my eyes, but even I had to admit, it was a little funny. I supposed I should just get it all out of the way at once, so we could get to what I really wanted to talk about. "Just to get it out of the way, my Ma has been living in her guest house for two years, we've been sleeping in the same bed a couple of times a month for three years, and we're probably going to both adopt the kid."

Kris' hands fell into her lap, and her jaw damn near followed. I watched as she tried to form words, but she didn't seem able to make a sound as tears of mirth rolled down her face. It was a good two or three minutes before the redhead managed to speak.

"God, Rizzoli, did you buy a manual on how to be a lesbian stereotype?"

I titled my head so I had a clear line of sight at Kris's boots. "This from a woman in sensible shoes."

Kris slapped both her hands over her heart in a mock wounded gesture. "Oh, touché." She picked up a napkin and wiped her face. "I still don't see what you need me for."

"Um... I've never, you know, with a woman," I admitted, feeling myself blush again.

Kris scooted back from the table. "Oh no. No. I am not giving you sex advice. First, we are not that close. Second, your girlfriend disassembles bodies for a living. Third, there are books for that sh.. crap."

I shook my head, wondering why I'd thought this was a good idea. Oh yeah. Maura sex. Snuggling on the couch. Happily ever after. Right. "Not sex," I whispered. "Trust me, she's got that part figured out. Just, you know, dating. I've never dated a woman before."

"Sounds to me like you're doing a pretty good job of it."

I sigh. I was starting to get a little frustrated. "Look, I... I've effed up every relationship I've ever had, but that's never really bugged me before. I always figured if they ran off because I was being me, they weren't worth it to begin with."

Kris nodded. "Okay. So?"

"So, this is different."

"Different how?"

"This time I care. I'm in love with her, and I don't want to screw up."

"Look, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended that you've mistaken me for a nine hundred year old green midget who speaks in reverse Polish notation, but I'm not some kind of lesbian Yoda. Hell, I haven't had a steady girlfriend since I graduated from the Academy."

"Yeah, well, aside from a couple of convicted murderers I put away and a few women I went on dates with to get DNA samples, you're the only lesbian I know."

Kris snorted. "Bullshit."

I thought about that for a second and shrugged. She was right. There were more than a few cops on the force who were on the team. "Okay, maybe not, but you're the only out lesbian I know."

"Okay, fair point." Kris reached up, running her hands through her hair, smoothing it back. "Look, you and Doctor Isles have been friends for a long time, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Going on five years."

"And she told you what, exactly? That she wants to try dating?"

I shook my head. "She told me she's in love with me, and has been for a while."

"Well, there you go. Just keep on doing what you've been doing. Except stop dating guys, and make out with her more."

I stared at her in disbelief. "That's it?" It couldn't be that simple, could it?

Kris shrugged. "The odd candle light dinner probably wouldn't hurt. Send her flowers once in a while. Or better yet, there's this company that cuts fruit into these flower shaped arrangements. That and some chocolate sauce can make for a very good night."

"Oh." I felt the heat rising in my cheeks again, and started to get annoyed by how much I was blushing, but I couldn't help it. I had a very vivid mental image of easing chocolate dip and strawberries off of Maura's naked body.

Kris smiled and nodded. "'Oh' is right. Also 'god yes' and 'right there'."

I laughed. "You're not so bad at this Yoda thing."

"Thanks. Oh, and stop complaining when she asks you to go somewhere you hate."

"How did you know-"

"Because you're the butch."

"I'm not butch."

Kris raised an eyebrow, and pulled her iPhone off her belt. She held it up. "Do I really need to pull up all the YouTube videos of you breaking furniture over some gang banger's head, or tackling guys twice your size? I think I've got the one where you took down the two hundred pound professional wrestler with a broken nose and dislocated shoulder bookmarked."

If I hadn't been holding Tony, I would have face palmed. "God. I'm really butch, aren't I?"

Kris shrugged. "Hey, it's working for you. Half the girls on the force would give up their signed photos of Jennifer Beals and their complete set of 'The L Word' DVD's for five minutes in the supply closet with you."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. I mean, I knew I got the occasional look from women, but I hadn't noticed some sort of fan club.

"Hey, focus. You already got the prize. Of course, the other half are going to want to murder you when they find out you bagged Doctor Isles, and I can't say I blame them."

"Okay, if you keep mentally ogling my girlfriend, I swear to God, I'll tell detective Crowe you've got a crush on him."

Kris made a face like she'd just been force fed a lemon. "Low blow, Rizzoli."

"Yeah, well, I'm the jealous type. I nearly broke Riley Cooper in half once, and that was before I even realized I had a thing for Maura."

"Wait, Cooper's family?" she asked, and I wanted to offer her a napkin to wipe up the drool. Seriously, what the fuck was it with Riley fucking Cooper?

I said. "Not that I know of. She was dating my brother and my partner for a while, and they're both guys. But Maura went all gaga over this tattoo Cooper had, and-"

"You wanted to lift your leg and mark your territory."

"Okay, that's just gross. Accurate, but completely gross" I was beginning to hate how insightful she was.

Tony made a small complaining noise, and I looked down to see him staring up at me. I grabbed his pacifier and popped it into his mouth, and he made one of those little happy baby noises as he started sucking on it. I started rocking him gently, hoping to get him to go back to sleep.

Kris let out a sigh, and I looked up to find her wearing this soppy expression that I was used to seeing on Maura when she was reading a romance novel on her iPad, pretending it was a scholarly journal.

"Look, Jane, I get that you're scared. For the first time, you've got a relationship that matters to you. That's some scary, wake up in the middle of the night sh- crap, but you got this. Really. Just keep doing what you're doing. Throw in a few more date-y things, the flowers, the candle light dinners, and cut out some of the complaining when she asks you to do things she likes. Most important of all, tell her how you feel. A lot. It's not the cure for everything, but frequent application of the phrase 'I love you' helps, as long as you mean it."

I nodded. "I do."

Kris smiled. "No more training do you require. Already know that which you need."

I laughed. "Then I am a Jedi."

Kris shook her head. "No, you're a lesbian. Just remember to put my name on the form when you fill out the paperwork. You and Dr. Isles have got to be worth at least a toaster oven."

I blinked, wondering what the hell she was talking about. "Huh?"

Kris shook her head. "Sorry. Lesbian pop culture joke. You'll get it eventually."

"Right," I said, making a mental note to google 'lesbian toaster oven' when I got home.

"And Rizzoli..."

"Yeah?"

"If you or Dr. Isles need anything, let me know. This crap was scary enough for me at nineteen. I'm not sure whether it's better or worse in your thirties, but it's not something you should go through alone."

I smiled, touched by the sentiment. "Thank you. Again."

Kris waved it off. "You take care of family, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you do."


	14. Chapter 14

**Maura**

I settled back into my seat, waiting impatiently for the plane to take off. I'd flow often enough in my life that I wasn't really uncomfortable on planes, as long as I could get first class seats, but I was always impatient. Until recently, when I got on a plane, it was always with a sense of excitement about whatever waited for me on the other end. Lately, I'd only felt that excitement on the return flight. Leaving Boston, leaving Jane, even if it was only for a day or a weekend, was getting harder to do every time I had to do it.

But today, I was more impatient than I'd ever been, because I had so much to look forward to on the other end.

I looked down at my cell phone, which still displayed the text I'd received from Jane that morning.

_My Beloved Maura,_

_Yes, forever and always._

_With all my love,_

_Jane_

It was so simple. Sixty characters forming twelve words. But it said so much, promised so much.

When I'd received it, I'd almost walked out of the meeting with the FBI pathologists I'd been there to consult with and taken the next flight to Boston. It had taken all my will power to calm down and finish the consult. I'd done it, connecting the bodies the FBI had found in South Florida with a case I'd worked for the San Diego ME's office before I took a position in Massachusetts.

Then I'd canceled all the appointments I'd made with clothiers and boutiques in D.C. and gotten my flight rescheduled for that afternoon, because I couldn't stay away. Not knowing Jane loved me and wanted me. When that text arrived, there was suddenly nothing in the world more important than getting home to my family.

I was so enthralled by the sight of the words on my phone's screen that I almost missed the announcement telling me to turn off my electronics. I switched the phone off, reluctantly. It wasn't logical, I knew, but seeing the words made me feel closer to Jane. They made me feel loved and wanted. They made me happy.

I tucked the phone into my purse and sat it in the seat beside me. The first class cabin has barely half full, and I'd been lucky enough not to have anyone sitting next to me, or in the seat behind me, which meant that as soon as we were in the air, I'd be able to lean back and get some rest. In less than two hours, I'd be home, safely tucked into Jane's arms.

I smiled, wishing Jane were with me now. We'd be isolated enough. A blanket over our laps would be perfect. I could part my legs, and Jane could slip a hand up my skirt. I closed my eyes and bit my lower lip as I gently squeezed my thighs together.

No, if Jane and I were going to join the mile high club, we were going to do it right. A charter jet with a real bed. I'd be more than willing to trade the thrill from possibly getting caught for the ability to take my time having my way with Jane.

I heard the engines begin to spin up and smiled just a little wider. Two hours. Just two more hours, and I'd be with Jane. My Jane.

* * *

**Jane**

I was stretched out on the couch with my back propped up against the arm. Tony was curled up, sleeping on my chest as I watched a muted game on the plasma. The only sounds in the room were the soft clicking of Ma's knitting needles, Jo's soft doggie snores, and the clacking of Bass's scaled feet as he roamed through the house, looking for Maura.

"Are you going to do anything special for Maura when she gets home," Ma whispered, trying to keep her voice down to avoid waking the baby.

I turned my head, smiling at her. "Depends on whether I can find a baby sitter."

Ma smiled, laughing a little. "I think that could be arranged."

I turned back to Tony, reaching up and rubbing his back gently, struck by the thought that this was exactly what Maura had meant when she'd talked about the night Hope and Cailin had come over for dinner. The simple domesticity of our lives. I was a woman, laying on the couch, holding my son and talking to my mother about making plans for when my girlfriend got home from her business trip.

It was so ordinary, so simple, and it made me so ridiculously happy I could barely stand it.

"I thought I'd take her to Gaslight. It's this French place over on Harrison Street. They do this mushroom crusted yellowfin tuna that she likes."

"That sounds lovely."

I smiled. "It's tasty, I'll give it that. A little on the pricy side, but for a special occasion, it's not too bad."

I heard Ma sigh and looked over at her again. "What?"

"You're practically glowing, sweetheart," Ma said. "I'm just remembering what it was like being in love for the first time."

"Honest, Ma, I'm kinda hoping this is more of an 'only time'."

"I know." Ma leaned forward, reaching out and rubbing Jane's shoulder. "If anyone can make it last, it's you two. You've always been so good for each other."

"I hope you're right, Ma, I..."

I turned around at the sound of a key sliding into the front door. I reached up, gripping Tony tightly so I could sit up, and I felt a little touch of fear. My gun was out of reach, locked in the gun safe Maura had installed in the master bedroom during the baby proofing.

I told myself it was stupid. A thief wouldn't use a key. It was just my cop brain in overdrive, and when the door opened, for once in my life, I was glad my instincts were wrong.

* * *

**Maura**

I felt like I was floating as I walked up to the front door. I'd spent the entire cab ride home staring at the text from Jane and day dreaming about what it would be like to walk through that door. I imagined Jane sweeping me up into her arms, planting a wild, passionate kiss on my lips and following it up with long, loud declarations of undying love.

In my more lucid moments, I chided myself. I'd been reading too many romance novels. A dirty little secret my iPad made so much easier to hide. I'd tried to tell myself to keep my expectations low, reasonable, but then I'd look down at the text and read it again, and the words would make my heart soar and my mind race.

Jane loved me. Jane wanted me.

I'd dreamed of it for months, and if I was honest with myself, I'd wanted it for a lot longer. Now it was happening.

I took my keys out of my purse and flipped through them, finding the house key and sliding it into the lock. I opened the door and stepped inside, pulling my suitcase along with me, and setting it out of the way so I could turn around and lock the door behind me. Once that was done, I turned towards the living room, and my eyes immediately landed on Jane, sitting on the couch, holding Tony against her chest, wearing a bright, beautiful smile on her face.

For one glorious second, my heart leaped into my throat, and it was everything I'd imagined. Then I spotted Angela on the easy chair next to the couch, and all thoughts of a sweeping, romantic reunion vanished.

"Hey," Jane said, her voice bright. "I thought you weren't coming back until tomorrow."

I forced myself to smile as I walked around the small partition that separated the entryway from the rest of the living room. "I finished with the consult today, and I decided that the shopping I had planned for tomorrow could wait. It's not like I don't have enough clothes."

Jane laughed as she stood up and turned to face Angela. "Ma, please."

Angela set aside her knitting and took Tony from Jane with a smile. "Welcome home," she said.

"Thank you," I replied as I watched Jane turn around and start walking towards me. I was slightly confused by the way she approached me, wondering what she was doing and wishing she wouldn't get so close with Angela there. I wanted to touch her so badly, I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep my hands to myself until we were alone. I'd rushed back from D.C. just to be with Jane, had dreamed of this very moment for months. My self restraint wasn't at its best.

But Jane didn't stop. She stepped right up to me, slipped her hands around my waist and pulled me close. I opened my mouth to say something, I wasn't sure what, and I never found out, because...

Because Jane was kissing me.

Jane was kissing me.

The room around us vanished, taking Angela and Tony and everything else with it, leaving just Jane and I, and the feeling of Jane's body pressed against me, and Jane's arms around me and Jane's lips on mine, and Jane's tongue sliding into my mouth.

It was heaven. It was pure and simple bliss. It was everything I'd ever imagined it would be.

Jane was kissing me.

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her closer, not sure if I'd ever be able to let her go. I'd wanted this for so long I couldn't remember what it was like to look at Jane and not want to kiss her like this.

It ended too soon, but that was inevitable, because forever would hardly be long enough, but when it was over, I found myself smiling up at Jane, staring into deep, chocolate colored eyes, and my heart just melted.

"Hey, you," Jane said.

"Hey," I whispered.

Then Jane leaned down and kissed me again. I moaned and lifted my leg up, wrapping it around one of Jane's muscled thighs.

A cough came from somewhere, and I whimpered as Jane broke off the kiss.

"What, Ma?" Jane said in an annoyed tone as she turned her head to look over her shoulder.

"I just wanted you to keep it PG rated while me and little Tony were in the room."

"Oh," I said, embarrassment rushing over me. I leaned forward, burying my face against Jane's chest as I blushed furiously. It took me another few seconds to remember to put my foot back down on the floor.

"Jane, sweetie, why don't I take Tony for the night, and let you girls have some private time?"

I closed my eyes, squeezing Jane a little tighter, not wanting to let go.

"Thanks, Ma."

I listened until I heard the back door open and close, then lifted my head, looking up at Jane. "I'm sorry."

Jane just gave me a smug grin. "What for? It's my fault for being such an amazing kisser you forgot Ma was in the room."

I groaned and dropped my head back down against Jane's chest, but I couldn't stop myself from laughing. Jane just hugged me a little tighter and placed a kiss on top of my head.

We stayed like that for a long time. I didn't want to move out of the warm circle of Jane's arms, or even let go, in case it was all another day dream, about to vanish.

"You okay?" Jane asked.

I looked up at Jane and nodded my head. "Yes," I whispered. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to look your mother in the eye again, but I think it was a fair trade."

Jane laughed. "Come on," she said, starting to pull away.

I held on, refusing to let go. "No. I'm quite comfortable right where I am."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "I bet you'd be even more comfortable snuggled up on the couch."

I thought about it for a moment, tilting my head as I considered her proposal. "I see your point." Reluctantly, I let her go.

Jane took my hand and led me over to the couch, where she dropped down and pulled me down on top of her. "See, isn't this better?"

I shifted position slightly so I could kiss Jane, running my tongue along her lips before catching the lower one between my teeth, sucking it gently before letting it go. "Definitely."

Jane closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh of frustration. "God, you're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

I grinned. "No. I definitely need you alive for what I have planned."

Jane actually whimpered. A sound which went straight through me, making me shift positions again.

"I've read some of what you've got planned for me," Jane said. She leaned up, brushing her lips over mine. "They're good plans."

I smiled. "I'm glad you think so." I leaned down, kissing her again as I slipped my fingers under the bottom of her t-shirt, running them lightly over her stomach.

She broke the kiss, and when I tried to kiss her again, she caught my head in both her hands, tilting it up until our eyes met.

"I love you," she said.

I could feel the tears starting to build up in my eyes. Happy tears. She'd never said the words before. I tried to lean forward, but she didn't let me move. Just looked into my eyes.

"I want all of it Maura. Everything you talked about. You, me, a life together, marriage, children." She leaned forward, resting her forehead against mine. "Just promise me you'll forgive me when I screw up."

I could see the tears dripping off my face and landing on her cheeks, and I decided none of the romance novels got it right. All the descriptions paled in comparison to how wonderful this moment felt. I looked into her eyes and nodded.

"Yes, always," I said. "Promise me the same thing."

She nodded, then she leaned up and kissed me. "We shouldn't do this here," she said.

"Why not?" I asked. "Your mother said she'd give us some privacy."

"Yeah, but someone gave my brother a key."

"Bedroom?"

"Now."

We scrambled up, off the couch, and I took Jane's hand, stopping her before she could walk away. She turned back, giving me a questioning look.

"I love you, Jane."

She stepped towards me and kissed me, and it was every bit as good as the first time. Then she bent down and scooped me up, carrying me towards the bedroom in her arms.

"I love you too, Maura."


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Explicit content

* * *

**Maura**

Our first time wasn't slow or tender. There was too much tension, desire and longing built up between us. Years of wanting all boiled down to one moment of suddenly having. I thought it would be frantic and hungry, but it wasn't that, either. It lay somewhere in the middle, need mixed with the uncertainty of making love to a woman for the first time.

Jane kicked the door shut as she carried me through it and dropped me on the bed. She didn't wait, didn't give me time to undress. She just reached down, grabbed the sides of my blouse, and jerked them in opposite directions. The sounds of threads popping and buttons bouncing off the wall echoed through the room.

She climbed up on the bed, straddling me as she kissed me. I rocked my hips, grinding up against her, making her moan. She pulled at my ruined blouse, tugging it up until I lifted my arms so she could pull it the rest of the way off, then she slid a hand under me, and after a moment of fumbling, she worked my bra open and pulled that off too.

I reached up for her, but she caught my arms by the wrist and pushed them back down against the mattress, shaking her head.

"Let me," she said.

I wanted desperately to touch her, to feel her, but I nodded, letting her set the course. She reached down and pulled my skirt up around my waist, and I gasped as her left hand slid between my legs, rubbing me through the fabric of my panties. She slid her fingers up, slipping them under the waist band, and I moaned as I felt them sliding through hair and slipping between labia.

I grabbed the sheets, twisting the fabric in my hands and closed my eyes, not quite believing it was really happening. Jane was there, above me, touching me, making love to me.

I moaned, my head rolling back as she found my entrance. Her fingers slid inside me easily. I was already wet, needy, desperate for her touch. I shuddered as her mouth closed over a nipple and her fingers started moving. She curled them up towards the front wall of my vagina, searching for my g-spot, and finding it with long, slender fingers.

"Yes," I hissed. "God, there. Jane." The words spilled out before my throat closed up. I wanted to tell her, to warn her, but I couldn't. I could barely breath. I was too far gone, and I wasn't going to last. Not if she kept up what she was doing. I tried to stop it, to hold back, to fight it and make it last, but her thumb found my clit and I broke, throwing my head back and screaming as I came.

When it was over, she moved up and kissed me, her tongue sliding into my open mouth and caressing mine as her fingers rested inside me. The kiss was slow, teasing. I tried to meet her tongue with my own, but she drew back into her own mouth, and when I followed, she wrapped her lips around my tongue and sucked on it.

I whimpered, and my grip on the sheets tightened. Her fingers were moving again and it was heaven, having Jane inside me. She made it last longer, keeping her fingers straight at first, so they didn't hit my g-spot, running her thumb along the wet flesh of my vulva without touching my clit. I was going mad, loving it and wondering how someone who'd never been with a woman could be so good at it.

"Please," I begged, breaking the kiss when I couldn't take it anymore, when I thought I would die if I didn't come.

Jane curled her fingers up, finding my g-spot again, and her thumb found its way back to my clit. Her strokes became faster, more urgent.

"Look at me," she whispered. I turned my head and looked into her eyes. They were shining, bright with emotion. "I love you," she whispered. It wasn't her touch that sent me over the edge the second time. It was her words.

I whimpered when she pulled her fingers out of me, but it was worth it when she wrapped both strong arms around me, holding me tightly in the afterglow.

I felt like I could just stay there forever, but I also wanted more. I wanted to touch her, to feel her and to give to her like she'd given to me. I leaned up, kissing her just in front of her left ear and whispered, "Take your clothes off."

She pulled back just enough to kiss me, then she let go of me and slid off the bed. I watched her as she started to undress. It wasn't like I expected. I was so used to brave, bold Jane that seeing her blush, seeing the shy way she slipped her tank top and bra off made me fall in love with her all over again. I kept my eyes on her, watching as every inch of skin was exposed, and reached down to pull off my skirt and panties as she was slipping out of her jeans.

When she was naked, she stood there next to the bed, letting me look at her. My eyes roamed over her and I was struck by how beautiful she was. I've seen her in various states of undress before. I'd even seen her naked once or twice, but I'd never really been free to just look at her. I wanted to reach out, touch ever scar, trace them with fingers and tongue. I already knew the story behind each one. The ones on her hands and the gunshot were the most prominent, but there was the thin line on her hip where a gang banger had swiped at her with a switch blade. The raised ridge on her thigh where a bouncer threw her through a plate glass window. A glossy patch where she'd reached into a burning car to pull a five year old out of the wreckage. She tried so hard to hide them, but I loved them. Badges of courage, reminders of the incredible woman she was, and of how lucky I was to still have her in my life.

I reached out, taking her hand and pulled her towards me. She climbed up onto the bed and lay down next to me. She reached for me, but I rolled on top of her, straddling her and kissing her as my hand slid up to cup her breasts. I squeezed them, kneading them gently. She moaned when I lightly pinched a nipple, so I did it again, harder, and got a louder moan as she arched up into my touch. I filed that away for future reference as I let my hands roam, cataloging every response, learning her body.

My lips slipped down, leaving a trail of kisses from her mouth, down her neck to her chest. I didn't stop there. I wanted her, and I knew how I wanted her. I wanted to be wrapped in her, to drown in her touch, taste and smell. My lips brushed through damp black curls as I pushed her legs open and settled between them. I looked down, noting dampness, the bright red flush of sexual excitement along the edges of her labia, and I leaned closer, running my tongue along them, moaning at my first taste of her.

Jane hissed, arching her back and rolling her hips towards me. I slipped my left arm around her right thigh, circling it from underneath and resting my hand on top of the hair covering her mons. I pulled her towards me as I parted her with my tongue, letting it slip between her folds and caress the soft, wet flesh inside.

Her flavor was strong, tart and heady. She smelled like warmth and spice and summer time in the country. She felt soft and strong, like silk stretched over iron. Jane, my Jane. She was everything I'd imagined and more, and I couldn't wait, not anymore.

Instead of teasing her like I'd planned, I slipped a pair of fingers on my right hand inside her. She was warm, wet and inviting. I slid my left hand down, still cupping her mons with my palm, but finding her clit with my fingers and starting to rub gently as I curled the fingers inside her up to find the rough patch on her front wall that marked her g-spot. I let my tongue wander, tracing patterns on the skin inside her vulva.

She gasped and panted, her back arching and her hands twisting the sheets as she writhed under my touch.

"Fuck, Maura. Fuck." The words were loud, desperate. I picked up my pace, pumping my fingers into her faster matching the rocking of her hips. She reached down, sliding her fingers into my hair. I looked up, meeting her eyes, and watched as the glazed over. She moaned, bit her lower lip, and then I felt it. The slight tensing of the muscles that told me how close she was. I moved my mouth up, letting my tongue replace my fingers on her clit, wrapping my lips around it and sucking gently.

My Jane shattered, her whole body bucking as she screamed. Pain burned in my scalp as she pulled my hair, and I loved it, loved that I'd done this to her. I didn't stop. I eased up, slowed my thrusts and licks for a few moments, letting her recover, letting the painful sensitivity just start to fade, before I picked up again.

"Maura," she cried, desperately, but it was to late for any more words. She was already coming again before she finished saying it.

The second time, I let her come down completely. She whimpered slightly as I slid my fingers out of her, and closed her legs as I crawled up the bed to settle down next to her, my weight half on top of her, and kissed her. I moaned and wrapped her arms around me, holding me close. I settled in, warm and happy in her arms.

* * *

**Jane**

I smiled down at Maura as she slowly opened her eyes. She'd slept for almost an hour after we finished making love, and I'd just held her and watched, the whole time. She was amazing and beautiful, and for some reason I'd never understand, she'd fallen in love with me.

I used to think God hated me. That I'd done something to piss Him off and He'd just never quite managed to forgive me. But I had to be wrong. I had to be, because if He let me have this, if He'd given me this, then of all the people, ever, I had to be His favorite, because who else would He give something so precious too.

I leaned down and kissed her, making her moan softly. She slipped a thigh between my legs and pressed against me, and for a minute, I considered just taking her again, making love to her all night and all through the next day. Much as I wanted to, I knew I had to resist the temptation. I'd enjoyed it, but I hadn't really planned on falling into bed with her the moment she got home, and I knew there were things we needed to talk about, so I broke the kiss and pulled back.

"We need to talk," I said. I saw worry appear on her face immediately, and I hugged her tightly. "Hey, nothing bad. I promise." I grinned. "Unless being stuck with me for the rest of your life is bad, in which case, I've got some really awful news for you."

She laughed, and I could see the relief written in her face. "What is it?"

I gave a small shrug. "Practical stuff."

She grinned. "I'm the practical one."

I laughed. "Usually, yeah. But I've gotta be practical for two now."

I could see the gears turning behind those bright hazel eyes, and some of the worry was back, but she nodded. "Okay."

I reached up, stroking her hair. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"I think we've made reasonable progress establishing that, but I'm afraid I'm going to insist on continued study. Rigorous, continued study."

I laughed at the flirty tone and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "I just want to make sure you meant what you said, Maura. You, me, Tony, a life together. A future."

She nodded. "Yes. Every word of it, Jane. I love you."

I sighed, wishing this could wait. Wishing for once, we could be normal. But it couldn't. I loved Maura, but that didn't absolve me of my other responsibilities. "We're going to need to work out living arrangements. Get amended custody documents. Decide if you want a durable power of attorney, or if you want to do a second parent adoption. I know it's not the most romantic conversation for our first night together, but-"

She kissed me, and for a moment, I completely forgot what I was talking about, but after she broke off the kiss, I looked up and saw tears in her eyes. "You mean it?" she asked. "You really want everything? You don't need to wait, or take your time?"

I shook my head. "No. Yes. No. Damn it! Yes I mean it. Yes I want everything. No, I don't need time. God, it's crazy, I don't want to wait. I just want to be with you for as long as you'll have me."

She kissed me again, but before I could really get into it, she rolled off me and got out of bed. I looked over to see her kneeling in front of the nightstand. I heard the scrape of wood on wood as she opened the bottom drawer, and rattling as she looked for something.

"There," she said. Shouted, more like. She slammed the drawer closed, and crawled back into bed, holding something in her right hand.

"What have you got?"

She lay down next too me and reached up, a little hesitantly, and set something on my chest. She held her hand on it for a few seconds, before finally taking a breath and lifting her hand away.

It was a ring box.

"Maura?" I asked.

"Open it."

I reached for it, my hands trembling. I picked it up, and I almost couldn't do it. I couldn't believe this was happening. I opened it. Inside there was a silver band shaped like hands, holding a heart between them, with a crown on the heart.

"It's not real silver," she said. "In your line of work, that would be far too soft a metal, so I chose sterling plated tungsten carbide. It's a little heavy, but it's nearly indestructible. The design is a classic Claddagh ring, a traditional Irish design which can be used to symbolize friendship, the desire for love, engagement or marriage depending on where and how it's worn. The design doesn't normally include a gemstone, and I know how you hate anything that might be considered frilly, so I thought-"

"Maura," I said, cutting her off.

"Yes?"

"Are you asking me to marry you in Google speak?"

She stared at me for a moment, and I could see the blush rising in her cheeks, but she nodded. "Yes, I think I am."

I rolled towards her, grabbed her and kissed her.

"Is that a yes?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yes. That's definitely a yes."

She reached out and took the ring box from me, pulling the ring out and setting the box on the nightstand, then taking my left hand in hers. I watched, breathless, as she slipped the ring on my finger, the little heart pointing towards my finger tip.

"When we get married, you turn the ring around so the heart on the ring always points towards your own heart." She looked up into my eyes. "It will take a couple of months to book Fenway park."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes, but..."

"What?"

"You are not wearing a Red Sox Jersey."

"Suit?"

"Tuxedo. Armani."

I smiled at her and nodded. "I can live with that."

She leaned forward and kissed me again. "I love you, Jane."

"I love you too, Maura."

"Good. Then you can tell Angela you're not wearing a dress."

I stared at her for a minute, then smiled. "We could always elope."

"Jane," she said, giving me that look she always gave me when she'd decided I was going to do something I didn't want to do. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way."

"What's the hard way?"

"I'll give your mother my Centurion Card and a list of bridal boutiques that carry dresses I'd find acceptable."

"You are so lucky I love you."

She smiled at me. "Yes. Yes, I am."

- The End -

* * *

A/N: Okay, yes, the ending was ridiculously sappy, but then, so was the whole story. This is me not feeling even remotely guilty.


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